Second Chances
by lislar
Summary: Renee is constantly on the move, dragging fifteen year old Bella around with her from one dump to another. Her life takes a turn for the worst. Bella is sent to Forks. Charlie, with the help of an alluring doctor tries to help Bella deal with her past.
1. An Ending and a Beginning

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight related. I do not financially profit from the use of her characters.

Renee always loved to watch musicals. Even when she was at her lowest I knew that if I slipped an old Fred Astaire movie into the dvd player she'd calm down and be okay again. But in the last few months, she never made it to the end of the movies anymore. I found myself leaning against the arm of the couch, her prone body unconsciously sprawled on the cushions behind me, watching the end of the ridiculously unrealistic depictions of life all by myself.

As an adult I often wondered just how all those silly musicals affected my young and impressionistic mind. Did they brainwash me into having some very unrealistic expectations of life? Or did they give hope when there wasn't any to be found elsewhere? Maybe they helped me trudge forward through the darkness; their message of happily ever after kept me believing that despite all that had happened to me – there was still a possibility of happiness for me.

*

Some people experience pivotal moments in life that changes everything from that moment on – a meeting, or an event that shapes the course of their future. I have had two of those moments in my life and they both in some way involved Edward Cullen. Its not easy for me to understand or explain just how much meeting him affected my life but I do know that my fate is somehow inextricably linked with his and if our paths had not crossed I would have never known what it really means to be alive.

The first time I met Edward Cullen I was only fifteen years old. Renee and I had been living in various different places around the Southwest –Albuquerque, San Diego, and finally Phoenix. We had been slumming around in Phoenix for several months when things went from bad to worse.

For as long as I could remember it had just been me and Renee. I knew my life was unconventional but still, it was all I knew. Sure, like all teenagers, I had some hopes for my future but considering all that I had been through I had pretty low expectations. Girls like me – with an incapable, immature mom and an absent father – didn't usually amount to much. If I graduated from high school relatively unscathed, it would be a miracle.

Even though she wasn't a normal mom, I loved Renee. And I know in her own unconventional way, she loved me too. She just couldn't seem live like other people – to settle down, to dig roots. We were continually on the move, searching for a happiness that was just out of grasp.

Somehow Renee always managed to find a menial job to make ends meet – in the most minimal of ways. We were living in one of those cheap hotels on the edge of town with a small kitchen – the kind that comes with a small crud-encrusted refrigerator and its own never-ending brood of ravenous cockroaches. We had lived in countless variations of this same type of hotel in many different cities, and then when life got too real or scary we would drift somewhere new.

This time Renee got a job cleaning rooms at the hotel where we were living which allowed her to be around a little more often than usual. She even enrolled me in the neighborhood school this time without my prompting. I wasn't really used to getting too much attention from her and this made me very independent. I did all the laundry, the grocery shopping and cooked most of our meals – or else face the alternative – be dirty and starve.

Whenever I started in a new school, which as you can imagine happened pretty often, I had mastered the art of blending in and making myself invisible. I knew how to keep my head down and to scowl at unwanted attention. Most people kept their distance when they found how unapproachable I was.

Our life had slipped into a familiar pattern in Phoenix and I was beginning to feel comfortable in our routine. This worried me. With Renee it was so much easier not to expect anything, not to hope for anything permanent. And just when I was feeling settled for the first time in a long time, Renee met Phil.

I could sense he was trouble from the first moment she brought him around to meet me. Phil was a handyman who the hotel routinely used to fix broken fixtures and repair clogged drains. Of course I had noticed him lurking around for a while before Renee gave in and starting seeing him. He had a reckless quality to him that frightened me but Renee seemed happier so I never said anything. In just a few weeks time he had wriggled his way into our peaceful lives and upset our predictable pattern.

Renee was no feminist but it had been just us two for so long that I held strongly to the notion that, despite our pathetic lifestyle and our nearly constant impoverishment, we didn't need anyone else. But it soon became obvious to me that even though I saw Phil as the bad news he was, Renee had easily become thoroughly seduced and completely attached to the charismatic loser. Having someone wedged between us was both shocking and unfamiliar to me. But I had never been taught to expect much or to fight for anything so I accepted my fate silently and withdrew from life and reality even more.

Anyway, I had to adapt and get used to being alone because when Phil came over my mom didn't even want me around. She shoved my limp form out of the door and told me to sit in the small lobby of the hotel with the pretense that it was a quiet place for me to do my homework. At least there was a comfortable chair down there and a television. Heidi, the apathetic night manager, and I soon got into a routine of watching TV together – she loved old reruns of _Friends_ and I was forced most nights to watch one episode after another. I actually began to like immersing myself in the totally unhindered and idealistic lives of the fictional characters and imagining that there were really people who had so little real worries.

I actually never really needed to do homework at home because I generally found school ridiculously easy and finished most of my work before I got home. Even though my mom was completely uninvolved in my education I know she was proud of me for doing well and I was happy it was one less thing for her to worry about.

We generally had a pretty good relationship though I often felt like more of a parent than a child. Renee was simply childlike in her approach to the world. But when Phil came in the picture everything became different. It's almost like she forgot that she was a parent altogether. We no longer watched movies together, she never asked me about my day at school, and I almost felt like I really had disappeared.

Now, when Phil came over I started to resist being kicked out. Phil was mainipulating Renee and I was hesitant to leave her with him. She started to say more hurtful things to me – words that I knew had come straight from Phil's mouth. I couldn't understand why Renee was so easily influenced by him and I was beginning to feel like I was losing a battle I didn't even know I was fighting. Before Phil, I was hoping that we would stay in Phoenix for a while, maybe even long enough for me to graduate, but now I wished with every fiber of my being, that Renee would tell me that it was time to move on again.

*

A couple of weeks after my mom started seeing Phil she didn't wake up for work in the morning. I got up from my bed on the lumpy couch and got in the shower like I normally did but when I got out my mom was still spread across bed, tangled in the sheets and hadn't moved. Normally, my mother would be up, making coffee in her tattered bathrobe with the news on the television providing a familiarly soothing dull hum in the background.

Panic overtook me. There had been a time, a few years earlier when we were living in a dirty slum of Albuquerque that I had found Renee like this in the morning. She had been especially depressed and desperate. She spent a lot of time out at night, leaving me alone with only the television to keep me company. Even though I was young, I knew that when she stumbled in at night, yelling and crying, and falling into to bed, that she had been drinking.

It was a horrible time and I was in such a state of worry all the time that I tried even harder to be a good daughter – cleaning the house, making dinner, and organizing all of our things. I hoped that if I was really good that I could take away Renee's worries and I could make her happy again. And eventually, we moved and things were better for a while.

As I stood looking down at my mother, I prayed that this was different. Maybe she had a cold, or maybe she was just more tired than usual. I reached down and grabbed her arm hesitantly and turned her over. But she didn't wake and as I examined her I gasped in shock at the sight before me. Renee had dark circles under her eyes and her lips were dry and encrusted with saliva. She was covered with a sheen of sweat which beaded on her forehead and chest. Her arms were bruised and I winced at the sores along the vein at her elbow that were clearly new and raw.

"Mom! Mom!" I shook her by the shoulders and pleaded with her to wake up. She mumbled something at me before slumping back to the bed and sloppily pushing me away with her arms. "Mom, please wake up!" I begged, the tears welling in my eyes and streaming ceaselessly down my face. I had never felt so hopeless before.

I jumped up to fill a glass with water and sat down next to Renee, forcing her limp body into a sitting position. I tried to get her to drink the water but it dribbled down her face, wetting her shirt and the sheets. My hands were shaking so badly that I spilled some water myself as I dropped the glass on the nightstand. I grabbed a wet washcloth and sat down next to Renee, wiping her hair out of her face and cooling her down.

After several minutes I had calmed myself enough to call the front office to tell them that Renee was sick and couldn't work. The asshole manager had enough nerve to threaten me so I just hung up on him. I sat next to Renee all day, wiping off her brow, adjusting her pillows, getting her drinks of water, and talking to her about meaningless things I was learning in school or what had happened on _Friends_ the night before. I propped her up so that she could watch television.

Her blank stare disarmed me but it began to soften into a semblance of her normal look as I put a Fred Astaire movie in the DVD player. We watched a total of three musicals that day and by the evening she was almost recovered. I didn't ask her any questions about what she had done because I was afraid of the answer. And she didn't offer any explanations for her condition on her own. But I was more worried than ever before and I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen, something catastrophic.

*

It was only two months later, and after many more of Renee's late night visits with Phil, that I woke up to a nightmare. Renee was sprawled across the bed like usual but something was different but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. It felt stuffy and smelled kind of weird in the room so I opened a window. I remember gazing down at Renee and recognizing that she seemed really skinny, bony almost and thought that I should try harder to make dinners that she would like so she would eat more. I also remember that she had been coughing the night before and I made a mental note to stop by the drug store after school to get her some cough medicine.

Lately I had been putting off waking Renee until right before going to school so she could sleep off whatever it was that she had been doing the night before. I hopped into the shower and got myself ready like I did every morning. I liked to imagine that I could wash away all the grime in my life, sending all the ugliness in a stream down the drain. I even made myself a strawberry Poptart that morning, turning on the news like Renee usually did, and eating by the low din of the newscaster's practiced voice. I put my dish in the little sink and checked my reflection in the mirror – a wan, perfectly average face looked back at me sullenly and I quickly turned away.

"Mom," I called out to her, hoping she would awaken easily today. "Mom!" I said more loudly as I approached the bed. She didn't stir so I leaned down to touch her shoulder and instantly flinched at the feel of her. She was cold and wrong, just _wrong. _I gasped, my hands flew to my mouth and I backed up until I hit the wall. I couldn't move. I just stood trembling, the realization of my mother's stiff and lifeless body before me slowly sinking in until I felt the dull ache of it in every inch of my body.

*

I couldn't sleep on the airplane. I was too anxious. So much had happened so quickly that I didn't have time to process everything. I think I was in shock. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward but I had yet to feel anything – to really cry, or to say goodbye.

But I found myself now sitting with a social worker assigned to my case, a cold, blond, tiny woman named Jane something-or-other on an airplane to Seattle, WA. She kept telling me details of what she called my "placement" as if I were a file to be filed, a letter to be mailed. Earlier in the day I had been unceremoniously told that I was to be sent to my father, who lived in a small town in Washington, called Forks. Somehow in the haze of my current numbness I registered that his name was Charlie and he was the chief of police. _I had a father._

A small part of me was angry with Renee who had failed to ever tell me of my father, no matter how often I begged for information. And to meet him now that I was broken into a million different pieces didn't seem fair. I was a mess and a misfit, the daughter of a dead heroin addict who grew up in trashy hotels and never had a real home. How would he see me? I didn't deserve a real home. I let my mother die.

I was wrought with emotion as the plane landed and we headed to pick up our rental car. Jane was impassive the entire drive. It was okay, I didn't need anyone to hold my hand. But as we neared Forks, I felt the ice around my heart begin to melt. And as we drove through the gray mist I couldn't resist feeling a tiny glimmer of hope.

We pulled up to a white two story house on a tree lined street, a police cruiser parked in the driveway. It was the kind of house I had always dreamed of living in, growing up in. I stepped out of the car all the while my eyes memorized the details of the house: the peeling paint on the window sills, the weeds in the window boxes, the moss growing along the wooden handrail. I loved every bit of it which made it even harder to keep reminding myself not to expect anything. _He won't want you once he knows – once he's seen you. _

Jane reached out and pulled the screen door open. She turned to me with a false smile on her face. "Here we go, Isabella." She knocked forcefully and looked at the closed door with anticipation. I looked down at my feet, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. I heard footsteps and then the door opened in front of me and I raised my head to look into the eyes of my father for the very first time.


	2. Meeting Charlie

"Bella?" Charlie's eyes flickered to my impassive face. I opened my mouth to respond but no words escaped.

Charlie turned a questioning glance towards Jane, who had dropped her fake smile and rearranged her expression to show she meant to get down to business.

"Mr. Swan, I spoke with you on the phone. We are doing the transfer today." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Jane raised her hand and poked me sharply in the back.

I jumped forward awkwardly, colliding into Charlie and causing him to stumble backwards against the door. He composed himself quickly, reaching out uncertainly to offer me a shaking hand. I recoiled, feeling a surge of heat in my cheeks and the tips of my ears. Perceiving my distress, Charlie turned his face promptly away and led us to a surprisingly homey living room. There was an uncomfortable tension in all his stiff gestures as he motioned for us to sit on the worn sofa. He in turn, sat on the edge of the coffee table and rested his hands on his knees.

Jane immediately began talking but I drowned out as much of it as I could. I tried to imagine that she was speaking of someone else. The unfeeling tone of her voice as she described my pathetic life barely touched me. I didn't even flinch when I heard words like _addict, emaciated, _and _neglect _falling from her lips. She spoke as if she was in essence, reading a grocery list, reducing my life to a horrifying list of one word adjectives.

While Jane pulled a handful of papers out of her briefcase and handed them to Charlie, I couldn't stop my curious eyes from examining my father more closely. I was relieved to see that he had a kind face. His sharp, brown eyes were lightly lined with wrinkles and he had a wide, brown mustache. I imagined that he might look younger without the mustache and that it was possibly hiding a thin upper lip like my own.

He was trim and muscular, thankfully without the hard, wasted, look that Phil had. I couldn't help but wonder if I resembled him and discreetly searched for similarities. There was something familiar in his posture, and in the line of his jaw. Though his hair was graying slightly, its color and texture was similar to mine.

He caught me looking at him and smiled shyly at me. I realized with a start that he was clearly just as nervous and uncertain as I was. My instincts told me to trust him and I tried to push all the feelings of dread to the back of my mind. But I was still riddled with doubt. _Did he really want me here? _I had no where else to go but I was used to taking care of myself and I could continue to do so. I would wait and see.

I was tangled up in my own thoughts and fears when I realized Jane and my father were both standing up and heading for the door. I followed like a ghost, feeling invisible for the moment. My father walked down to the rental car and hoisted the small, dirty suitcase that housed all my possessions out of the trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and then turned without ceremony to shake Jane's hand. He walked back towards me with the suitcase in one hand as Jane drove away leaving us alone.

"Come on in, Bella," Charlie said as he lightly placed his hand on my shoulder, encouraging me to go back inside the house.

He carried my bag up the stairs, gesturing me to follow. I shifted forward on my toes, my body automatically responding, and climbed the stairs behind him.

When I reached the landing on the second floor, I saw Charlie's silhouette in one of the rooms and headed that way. He had put my suitcase on the floor and he was standing with his hands on his hips, his face twisted in thought. He watched me approach.

Without hesitation he spoke, "Bella, this will be your room. When I found out you were coming I went out and got a few things. I hope you like purple," he said as he motioned to the purple bedding.

I wasn't ready to talk yet so I just nodded my head sheepishly. To hide my nerves, I swept my eyes across the room, taking in small details like the white desk in the corner and the empty bulletin board hanging crookedly on the wall. I resisted the strong urge to steal a glimpse in Charlie's direction and avoided meeting his gaze. He shifted anxiously from one foot to the other, clearing his throat to draw my attention to him.

"Um, well, I'll just let you get settled. And then when you feel up to it, I guess we should talk, okay?"

Luckily for me in my mute stupor, Charlie seemed to sense that I needed some time to figure things out. He didn't bother to wait for me to respond before he walked out of the room and went back down the stairs.

When I heard the calming mumble of television voices drifting up from the living room, I collapsed on the bed and curled up into a tight ball, wrapping my arms around me protectively. I felt a surge of self-pity and tearless sobs tore from my chest. A gust of wind caused the windows to rattle in their frames, mirroring the tremors in my body.

Soon my eyelids became so heavy I couldn't keep them open and I easily succumbed to the complete exhaustion of my mind and body. My last thought as I slipped into oblivion was how odd it was to be in this house that so closely resembled what I'd always dreamed of having. But Renee wasn't here and I was never going to see her again. The cold wind outside whipped up into a frenzy, aggressively lapping at the house. As I pulled my arms more tightly around me, I felt my loss acutely.

I was startled when I awoke, surprised to find myself still in Charlie's house in Forks, the angry wind was still lashing around outside. My mind was so muddled it seemed the whole thing might have been a dream. Yet I was used to waking up and feeling disoriented. I had moved around so much in my life that I had to be adaptable. But there were certain things that I always had control of, that always had to be the same in order for me to retain my sanity.

I needed to have a shower each morning and I always washed my hair with my favorite drug-store brand strawberry shampoo. No matter where we lived or where I slept, I always put my tattered, dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice next to my bed and tucked my shabby, well-loved teddy bear, Bubba, next to my pillow. Bubba had been with me since I was two years old. Unable yet to articulate clearly, I had ingeniously saddled him with the closest name I could come to "Bear Bear" which ended up as "Bubba."

Renee had bought Bubba for me at a happier time and he always made me feel a little safer in even some of the most unstable living situations we had faced. The only other possession that I had somehow managed to hang on to through all our transient living was a fuzzy, pink blanket that some friend of Renee's long ago knitted for me when I was a baby. It was much too small and thin to provide any real warmth or comfort but I couldn't sleep without it. Even a cold, hard floor could transform into a makeshift bed when I had my pink blanket wrapped around me.

So the first thing I did when I woke up in my new bedroom was to pull all of my things out of my suitcase and arrange them where I _needed _them to be. It didn't take long for me to organize my few belongings. As soon as I was done, I grabbed some clothes from my suitcase and scurried quietly out into the hall with my strawberry shampoo in hand, searching for the bathroom.

The bathroom wasn't hard to find; it was sandwiched between the only two rooms on the second floor. I was happy to find that even though it was a small and very old fashioned bathroom, it was meticulously clean. White and black hexagonal tiles decorated both the cold floors and the shower walls. There were two towels hanging on the only towel rack, a threadbare, pale yellow towel nestled tightly against a pristine, fluffy, purple one. I ran my hands over the soft fibers of the new towel. I couldn't ever remember using a new towel before.

I climbed into the foreign shower and imagined, like I always did, that the ugliness of my life would simply wash away down the drain. The water was so hot that it was almost painful as it pelted my shoulders. But it made me feel almost alive again and thawed me enough to give me a small scrap of courage with which to cling. As I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself up in a new fluffy, purple towel, I felt for the first time that perhaps I had polished off some of my grime.

I finally felt like I was ready to officially meet the man who, up until a few days previously, was completely absent from my life. I hoped he wouldn't immediately be able to see my weaknesses. I wanted to believe that I didn't need him but I was also well aware of the fact that I didn't have anywhere else to go.

I didn't want to have any expectations of Charlie, but I still couldn't deny that I had an overwhelming curiosity to find out more about him. What had happened between him and Renee? Why had he never been part of my life? Did he ever try to find me? Did he even want me now? I feared that deep down I desperately longed for him to like me, to want me, maybe even to love me. But I wouldn't let him know. I had to be strong or else crumble like a million little shards of glass.

The stairwell was shrouded in darkness as I nervously descended. I smelled an acrid burning scent billowing out of the kitchen and realized with a jolt of surprise that Charlie was making dinner. No one had really ever made me dinner before and I was hungry; I couldn't remember when I had last eaten. My stomach growled and I instantly felt the pangs of hunger as I slowly made my way into the kitchen. I felt small and alien as I moved forward, my eyes affixed to the floral pattern etched in the vinyl floor tiles.

"Oh Bella!" Charlie jumped, startled by my presence, dropping a wooden spoon and splattering tomato sauce across the floor and on the front of the oven door.

I felt a stab of guilt for making him so uncomfortable and ran forward to grab the spoon. In my clumsiness I didn't notice that Charlie bent over at the same time to reach for the spoon and our heads banged together painfully.

"Ow," Charlie said as he steadied himself and rubbed the sore spot on his forehead.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I blurted as I picked up the spoon and tried to back away from the mess I had made, tripping over my feet.

I stifled the tears that threatened to fall. _Stupid Bella. _I was overcome with anguish and embarrassment, about to give in to the instinct to flee the scene when Charlie started to laugh. I raised my eyes to catch his gaze and was again surprised by the warmth I recognized there. His laugh was so genuine and heartfelt, his entire face animated, and his eyes so kind that I couldn't resist smiling shyly back at him.

"Please tell me you can cook, Bella. Because I am clearly a disaster in the kitchen," he said chuckling. He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean wooden spoon, trading me for the dirty one.

"Perhaps you can save dinner," he said as he grabbed a dishtowel and wiped up the floor in front of the stove.

I turned my attention to the pots cooking on the stovetop just as the telephone rang. Charlie nodded reassuringly at me before he left, I assumed to answer the ringing in another, more private room.

The tomato sauce demanded my attention. It was bubbling and spattering angrily. I gave it a stir and found that it was only slightly scorched on the bottom. I turned down the burner to a low simmer and then glanced over the stovetop to assess the rest of the dinner preparations.

A large stockpot was full of boiling water, ready to receive the package of spaghetti that Charlie had left out on the counter. I salted the water with a shaker I found on the shelf above the stove and carefully placed the pasta in the pot. After stirring the bubbling sauce a little more, I scooped up a spoonful and carefully tasted it, sucking just a little bit off the tip of the wooden spoon. It had a residual charred tang to it but not so bad that I couldn't fix it with some spices. I scanned the shelf where I had found the salt and spotted some oregano, basil and garlic powder. I added a bit of each to the tomato mixture along with another pinch of salt.

As I stirred, the familiarity of the motion helped calm my racing heart. I listened for sounds of Charlie and could hear bits and pieces of his conversation from the other room. I was pretty sure that I heard my name a few times, and though I was interested to hear what he had to say, I felt like I had to respect his privacy. I wanted to deserve to be here.

While the pasta finished cooking, I figured that I had better acquaint myself with the kitchen as I presumed I might be doing most of the cooking while living here. _That is if Charlie decided to keep me._ I opened up several cabinet doors before I found the plates, glasses, and silverware. Though none of Charlie's things were fancy or new, I was relieved to see that the cabinets were stocked and everything was clean and well organized.

Feeling like I might be overstepping my bounds, I hesitantly opened the refrigerator and catalogued its contents. I could tell from the sparse contents that Charlie liked beer, Rainer to be specific, and that he ate out almost exclusively. Except for two six packs and a few take out containers, a carton of milk, and a loaf of white bread, the refrigerator was empty. I took a few more minutes to map out the rest of the kitchen. Then, after a quick check to see that the pasta was ready, I plated our dinners and set them on the small round table by the window.

Just as I was beginning to fret about going out to the other room to let Charlie know that dinner was ready, he walked into the kitchen and smiled contentedly at the table. For a brief moment I swelled with pride and a sense of relief that I had pleased him. I felt the ice around my heart melt just a little more.

"This is just…great, Bella," he said as he sat down at the table. I stood fixed in place, trying to memorize every detail of this unusual night, until I realized Charlie was looking at me, waiting for me to join him.

I blushed at being caught in my reverie, dropped my eyes back to studying the floor and shuffled over to the table. I prayed that Charlie hadn't caught the hope and expectation in my expression before I had rearranged my features. I needed him to know that I knew I didn't deserve much and that I wouldn't be any trouble. I sat down in the chair opposite him and opened my mouth to speak the words that kept repeating themselves in my mind. I needed to let him know.

"I don't expect anything," I said in a weak voice that I immediately despised.

I picked up my fork nervously and concentrated on swirling a strand of spaghetti around the tines so that I didn't have to see Charlie's reaction. Before I could raise the bite to my mouth, a firm hand reached out and gently but urgently grabbed my wrist, drawing my gaze upward.

"Look at me Bella. I finally have my chance with you and I'm not going to blow it, okay? I am here for you as long as you need me. You have been through some horrible stuff and I only wish…that well…I wish that I could have helped you sooner." He shook my wrist lightly, narrowing his eyes at me with a scrutinizing look and asked pointedly, "Do you understand me?"

I looked up at his face and nodded, so filled with warring emotions that a measured bob of the head was the only response I was capable of giving. I was more than overwhelmed by Charlie's declaration and tried with all my might to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. No one had ever said anything like that to me before and I didn't know how to react. Though I still was wary of my security, I couldn't help but feel immense relief at sincerity of Charlie's words.

I swallowed deeply, letting the tension melt away and took a bite of my pasta. Charlie took a bite too.

"This is really good, Bella. Thank you," he said, willing me to look up again.

"You're welcome," I managed to respond in my new squeaky, uncertain voice.

We ate the rest of our dinner in silence, neither of us desiring to bring up what needed to be said. An insurmountable gap still remained between us and I wasn't entirely ready to jump across it yet.

After dinner I automatically rose to clear the dishes from the table and began to rinse them in the sink. I could sense Charlie behind me before he actually made his presence known. He was being as careful around me as I was around him. We were two strangers thrust into an incredibly awkward situation, and I could only hope to be as little a disruption to his life as possible so that he didn't change his mind about me.

"You don't have to do that," Charlie said as he placed his hand lightly on my shoulder.

I tried to hide my instinctual reaction to the strangeness of his touch but he removed his hand quickly. I shrugged my shoulders and craned my head to look at him so that he could see my face.

"No. I want to," I said in the tiny wounded voice that I couldn't seem to shake, wiping the plate I held with the soapy sponge.

"Well, okay, thanks," Charlie responded and I could see him out of the corner of my eye opening the refrigerator and pulling out a can of beer.

He disappeared to the living room and I heard the television click on. I recognized the sounds of the nightly sports report, a broadcaster expertly recalling the highlights from a baseball game. I could hear bits of numbers, scores and statistics, and the energized roar of the spectators in the background.

Knowing that Charlie was sufficiently occupied, I relaxed into my task at hand; I dropped my shoulders and exhaled. I slowly and methodically continued washing all the dishes, drying them off completely, putting them tidily away in their respective spots.

As I made my way out to the living room, I felt my nerves return. Finding Charlie slumped back casually on the couch was somehow comforting and I could feel the sharp edges of my façade beginning to dull a little. I was anxious to see what life was going to be like for me here and I found it surprisingly easy to trust Charlie a bit more with each interaction I had with him. He was thoughtful, he didn't hover, and he seemed like he intuitively knew what I needed. I understood that he was being careful and he was giving me time to adjust. I needed time.

When Charlie heard me walk in, he reached for the remote and muted the sound. He patted the couch next to him and I complied.

"I know we both need time to adjust to things," he said as though he plucked the thought straight from my brain, "but there are a few issues that we have to discuss."

"First, I enrolled you into school at Forks High. You'll be starting there on Monday. And I know that we maybe need to do some shopping…for school stuff and groceries and anything else you might need. We can go tomorrow, okay?"

I nodded to let him know that his words were acceptable, but my head was spinning with new thoughts. I was trying to imagine where we would go shopping, what I might need, and meals that I would cook for Charlie.

Out of nowhere an image of Renee's thin body popped unwittingly into my head. I remembered how, on the morning of her death, I was planning to stop by the grocery store for some ingredients to make her dinner. I wanted to make her healthy again; I wanted to save her. But, I was too late.

My mind reeled from the impact of the memory and I realized with some consternation that Charlie was still talking. It was so hard to keep my thoughts focused. It had only been a short time since Renee's death but already so much had changed. I tried to imagine that my life before had simply been a horrible nightmare. I drew some internal strength from this fabrication, shoving the wretched memory to the back of my mind and returning to the present moment.

"Um…," Charlie paused; he was waiting, being considerate and careful, _very careful_ with me. He was hesitant to continue and, even in my distraction, I could tell he was pushing out words that he didn't want to speak.

"That woman from Social Services…um, Jane…she said that you should go to counseling…and well, I think it's a good idea. And I'm going to find someone for you to talk to. I will call the hospital tomorrow and talk to Dr. Cullen to get a recommendation," he leaned back further on the couch cushions, sighing in relief. "Well, I guess that's it for now. You figure out what you need…I mean…to buy tomorrow."

He was staring at me questioningly, waiting for my response. I stood gawking silently, my fears and anxieties paralyzing me from the inside out.

I said the only thing that I could think to say, "Okay."

Charlie smiled at me then and I had to look away; I feared that my emotions were transparent. I knew that they were written clearly on my face. _Could he see my aching need to be wanted, to be loved, and to have the pieces of my heart put back together?_ He cleared his throat, trying to pull my attention back to him.

"You must be tired. Maybe you'd like to spend some time in your room…making your list?"

As I processed Charlie's words I realized that going to my room was exactly what I wanted to do and felt thankful to him for giving me some direction. I took a small step toward the stairs.

"Okay," I said again.

_God, he must think I am stupid since I can't seem to sputter out more than one word at a time. _I panicked at the thought that he might think badly of me and blurted "thank you" as I took the first step on the landing.

I climbed the rest of the stairs thinking that, for the first time in my fifteen years of life, not only did I have a father and a house but I had my own room. Out of no where, I felt a flare of anger towards Renee. _Why did she deny me all of this? And why did she have to die in order for me to finally meet my father? _

As soon as the anger came it passed and I settled in bed for the night, wrapping the purple comforter snugly around me like a blanket of guilt and shame. Ugh! My thoughts were so muddled. One moment I was angry, the next I felt extreme guilt, and I was almost always scared. What did life hold for me? What sort of difficulty would tomorrow bring and how was I going to deal with it all? _Most importantly, how was I going to convince Charlie to love me when I felt so unlovable?_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3 - Welcome to Forks High

To say that I was used to being the new kid at school was an understatement. I had been to more schools than I could even remember. I knew exactly how to blend in, how to make myself invisible. I expected that it wasn't going to be any different at Forks High School. Why should it? But I was wrong. Everything was different here.

I had never lived in such a small town before. It was easy to be anonymous when I was going to school with thousands of other kids in the huge city of Phoenix. I just kept to myself and never drew attention my way. I was small, mousy and uninteresting. But no matter how I tried to hide under my shield of mediocrity, I stood out at Forks High. I was new, an outsider, a diversion.

I was entirely unprepared to be noticed. I didn't have a set of rules on how to deal with notoriety. I was flummoxed. And just to complete my mortification, Charlie drove me to school in his police cruiser. As we neared the school, I tried to slump down in my seat as thoroughly as I could without actually sitting on the floor. But I knew I would have to get out at some point.

I had never been so nervous to start school before. I think it was because Charlie was looking at me with so much feeling, like he was proud or something. But I couldn't be sure. I just knew that I wished more than anything to disappear as we pulled up to the front of the school where the majority of the students were milling around waiting for the first bell to ring. As I got out of the car, gawking faces whispering and pointing in my direction, I blushed from the tips of my toes to roots of my hair.

Having the police chief walk me to the school office also didn't help with anonymity. Everyone, both the adults and many of the students that we passed, seemed to know Charlie. Even as I concentrated on making myself as unnoticeable as possible, I managed to observe that Charlie was not only widely respected but apparently also well-liked. The walk to the office seemed a mile long. I was thankful that it was empty of students when we entered and let out the breath I didn't even realize that I'd been holding.

Of course all the office staff knew Charlie and expressed their excitement that I was finally attending their school, as if they had always known that I would someday. I couldn't help but feel a little freaked out that everyone seemed to know so much about me when I hadn't even heard of Forks or known of Charlie for that matter for more than a few days.

I stood in wonder watching Charlie artlessly converse with Mrs. Cope, the school secretary, impressed by his ability to so casually make small talk. I was surprised again at my incongruous mix of emotions. I felt both a growing fondness for Charlie and a burgeoning desire to please him, while at the same time I felt guilty for never having felt this way about Renee.

The only reason I ever did anything in school before was just to keep Renee from getting stressed out. I never wanted to add to her worries. I kept any and all problems to myself. She was fragile and it had been my responsibility to keep her from falling off the edge. But then in the end, I failed. And she paid with my failure with her life.

Charlie soon tied up his conversation with Mrs. Cope who seemed like she could have kept at it all day. With a smile and a nod he left. Instead of handing me my schedule, Mrs. Cope came around the desk with it in her hand and put her arm around my shoulder. Smiling maternally at me she pulled me out into the corridor.

"I'll just walk you to you homeroom class, dear."

Never before had I felt more like an exhibit on display. All eyes in Mr. Maguire's English class were fixed on me as I handed him my schedule. And as he told me to sit down at the empty seat in the middle of the class, I couldn't ignore all the curious whispers that circulated around me. I dropped my head forward, allowing my hair to fall around my face like a shield. I imagined that I was invisible and before long, attention shifted back to the teacher.

A few minutes before the end of class, my concentrated effort to escape notice was suddenly interrupted as a neatly folded note skidded across the table in front of me. I hesitantly cast a furtive glance to my right to see a wide smiling face pointing encouragingly at the square of paper. I made a lame attempt to return her smile but I couldn't match her enthusiasm. The best I could hope for was an artificial looking smirk.

I unfolded the note in my lap, hoping all the while that I didn't offend my first potential friend with my stilted emotions. The round, immature handwriting on the note seemed to reflect the personality of the girl. I was happy to find that the note was entirely innocuous. The girl simply introduced herself as Jessica and welcomed me to Forks.

As soon as the bell rang, Jessica grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway with her. It didn't take me long to decide that I didn't like her annoyingly bubbly personality. But I was so stunned by her attention that I didn't even know how to protest. Instead, I allowed her to treat me like her new toy, dragging me around behind her like a pet. She had appointed herself my chaperone for the day, taking it upon herself to initiate me into all the things that I needed to know about Forks and all of its inhabitants.

She was admittedly boy crazy, elaborating in great detail about all the boys who were the cutest, the most annoying, and the ones who were already taken. Her descriptions, though she seemed to have plenty of crushes of her own, didn't make me anxious to know any of them. I wasn't interested in having a relationship. I had no experience with boys and I couldn't imagine that anyone would be attracted to me anyway.

Though I had longed to make friends and have normal friendships in the past, I had never really had any. Every time I finally got used to a new school and life was beginning to feel predictable, Renee would tell me to start packing up my things and get ready to move again. What was the point of making friends when my life was so erratic?

When the bell rang for lunch I considered hiding out in the library. I was shoving the last few books into my locker, trying to remember the way to the library, when someone poked me in the shoulder. I turned to find Jessica, standing with her hands on her hips, and a pout on her chubby face.

"You're going to eat lunch with me today, Bella, aren't you?" she whined in a baby voice.

I inwardly cringed at her tone as she yanked on my arm and dragged me toward her. I stumbled into the cafeteria after her, feeling all eyes turn in our direction. I wondered if Jessica was using me, hoping that my notoriety as the new student might rub off on her. Unlike me, she seemed to like being at the center of attention. Nervously, my eyes scanned the room, darting longingly at the doors we just barreled through, the sole exit to the cafeteria.

I was planning my escape when Jessica pushed a tray into my hands and began to list off what she considered to be the various edible choices of food behind the steamy panes of glass. I knew that I wouldn't be able to eat anything anyway so I just pointed at the least offensive looking dish, macaroni positively drowning in gooey, artificial cheese sauce.

We paid for our lunches and I followed Jessica with my tray clasped tightly in my arms. I was concentrating so hard on not falling or making a scene of any kind that I was utterly caught off guard when the girl walking in front of me suddenly stopped and I rammed my tray directly into her back. She whipped around, a furious expression on her face.

"What the f…," the girl quickly processed who I was, stopping mid-exclamation, her face rearranging itself instantly. "Oh, you're the new girl," she snarled. "What's your name?"

"Um," I searched for words, feeling many eyes witness the exchange. "I'm Bella," I muttered, the blood rushing so violently to my cheeks that even my eyes began to water.

"Oh, Bella, well I'm Lauren, Lauren Mallory. Are you sitting at our table today?" As though just noticing her presence, she turned her steely gaze to Jessica, who had planted herself firmly next me.

"Bella promised to eat at our table. I've been showing her around the school today. I've been telling her about all the cool guys and the losers to avoid. I told her not to eat the meatloaf. We have English together. We sit next to each other; isn't that cool?"

Instead of answering, Lauren turned to me, spitefully rolling her blue eyes. "Don't mind Jessica. She has a chronic case of verbal diarrhea." I was shocked by her malice but when she linked her arm with mine I didn't have time to resist. She sat down at an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. I found that I had no other option but to sit down next to her. Jessica sidled up next to Lauren, preparing to sit in the closest seat when Lauren deliberately claimed the seat for her backpack, dropping it with great ceremony. Jessica was forced to walk all the way around to the other side of the table to find a seat.

I cringed at the bizarre social posturing that seemed to be happening for my benefit. I was fairly sure by this point that I didn't have anything in common with either of these girls. They were both ridiculously preoccupied with how they appeared and who was watching them. A few other girls sat down at our table but they were just as vacuous and shallow as Jessica and Lauren. I found that I forgot their names just as soon as I'd heard them.

The idle chatter at our lunch table was boring and inane. I contributed to the conversation as little as possible and only spoke when I was specifically addressed. I'm sure that it didn't take these Barbies too long to realize that I wasn't going to fit in with their group. I could care less who was wearing ugly shoes, had greasy hair, or had gained a few pounds. When the discussion turned to some boy who'd gotten detention for peeing in an empty water bottle during class, I began to surreptitiously scan the room for a friendly face, for someone to save me from hearing any more of the shallow, venom-laced gossip circulating our table.

I was beginning to feel the weight of defeat sink in when my gaze snagged on a pair of round black eyes which were looking directly at me. The eyes belonged to a fierce looking girl who was dressed head to toe in black. The shine on her tall black boots mirrored the gloss of her black hair which was styled in artfully messy tufts twisted all over her head. Her whole Goth look screamed "don't mess with me" but her porcelain skin, her pert, red lips and wide, doll eyes were irresistible. I couldn't tear my eyes from her. She sat backwards on the chair, her chin resting on her arms, and her ankles crossed casually. She was angled directly toward me, her gaze beckoning me, drawing me to her. If it weren't for the ironic smirk on her face, I would've been frightened by her intensity. But instead I found myself intrigued by the dark pixie.

I vaguely heard Jessica's voice cackling in the background of my mind. Before I could be dragged back down by her mundane ramblings I pushed my chair back abruptly and clumsily stood up. I reached down for my bag and mumbled to no one in particular that I had to go to the bathroom. Pushing my shoulders back with determination, I shuffled quickly to the door. I realized that I was getting a little better at ignoring the interested eyes pointed at me – a small, but meaningful personal victory. At the last moment I turned to see that the girl in black was still watching me, her smile wider now as though proud I'd somehow managed to extricate myself from my captors.

I headed for the bathroom, exhaling deeply when the door swung shut behind me. I darted into the first empty stall, carefully flipped down the toilet lid and heavily plopped down on the seat. I was just beginning to get my breathing back to its normal effortless pace and my heart to a tolerable thump thump beat when I heard the bathroom door open and the familiar shuffle of approaching footsteps.

Carefully, I leaned forward, chancing a quick sweep of the bathroom floor. I instantly recognized the black boots that were parked by the sink. I looked down at my own new pair of black converse that Charlie had bought for me, wishing that I had the courage to strike up a conversation with the girl wearing the boots. I began to recite opening lines in my head, practicing friendly phrases I might say to her, when her voice jolted me out of my thoughts.

"If you come out, I promise I won't bite," she said, surprising me with her sweet sing-song voice.

I undid the latch and gingerly pushed the swinging stall door open. I walked forward to the sink next to hers, my eyes flitting back and forth between our two reflections. The girl was obviously amused by my discomfort, her face stretched into a mischievous grin.

"I'm Alice," she offered to my reflection in the mirror, pulling an eyeliner stick out of a small bag. She stretched her eyelid back toward her ear and began to reapply the thick line of black around her eyes. Now that I was so close to her I noticed that her hair was not entirely black, several strands near her face were highlighted a bright electric blue. Her nose was pierced; a sparkling diamond earring nestled in the spot above her left nostril.

"I'm Bella…Bella Swan," I replied, smiling at her in the mirror. I turned on the faucet and washed my hands, stealing glances at Alice while she finished her eyes.

"I can't believe you got stuck with the bimbos at lunch today. Let me guess, Jessica Stanley high-jacked you and tried to get you to convert to her religion of spreading malicious gossip and shamelessly flirting with every guy in the school?"

"Um, yeah…I guess."

"Well, don't worry. She's basically harmless, not a total bitch like Lauren Mallory or some of the other cheerleaders. We actually used to be best friends in elementary school."

She reached into her messenger bag and retrieved a pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out, slipped it between her lips and lit it skillfully with a shiny silver lighter.

"What happened?" I asked, watching her take a deep drag on her cigarette.

"Well obviously, we drifted apart. She cares way too much what everyone thinks about her. She tries too hard. I feel sorry for her really."

"Well, what about you?" I blurted before I could stop myself, curiosity about Alice overriding my verbal filter.

"Obviously…I don't care what people think about me. Except for Jasper, of course."

"Who's Jasper?"

"My boyfriend. He graduated last year. He's working as a rookie Wildland Firefighter right now, but when I graduate we're moving to Seattle and he's going to go the Firefighting Academy there. I don't get to see him as often as I'd like. But I'm proud of him. Plus, he looks hot in his fire suit," she said, taking a long drag on her cigarette and exhaling a huge cloud of smoke into the air.

"Oh shit," she exclaimed while batting her hands around her in an attempt to spread the smoke. "Sorry," she added as the cloud drifted in my direction, encircling me in its heady scent.

"It doesn't really bother me. My Mom's boyfriend used to smoke," I said and then felt the damaging power of my words envelope me. Memories I'd been trying to forget forced their way into my consciousness, causing a tightening in my chest. My hand automatically went to cover my black heart while I blinked back the sting of tears. Could she see how wounded I was? My face in the mirror was unrecognizable to me – twisted in pain and remorse. I saw the concern in Alice's eyes and anticipated the question that hovered on her ruby lips. She was scrutinizing my reflection when the bell rang and I finally exhaled, knowing that my wounds would stay undiscovered for at least a while longer.

Alice jumped to attention at the sound, dropped the stub of her cigarette on the floor, and smudged the burning filter out with her boot. She kneeled on the concrete floor and started to methodically shove her things back into her bag.

"Look Bella, you should know that I'm not very popular at this school. I refuse to become a carbon copy princess zombie like all the rest of this girls in this town. I have higher aspirations. And I just have a feeling about you. I don't think you're like the rest of them either."

She slipped her bag onto her shoulder while I gaped at her, finding it difficult to think of an appropriate response. I marveled at her ability to switch from one subject to another so deftly. I deeply felt the inferiority of my social skills. I was so new at this, and so terribly awkward. I felt drawn to Alice but I couldn't help but wonder why she seemed so eager to befriend me. What did I have to offer her or anyone?

"I'm not," I whispered, knowing as I said the words that they were true in the deepest sense. I could never see myself feeling comfortable at Jessica and Lauren's table or even remotely feeling like I belonged in their world. Alice, a self-proclaimed outcast with her blue stippled raven black hair, pierced nose and don't-mess-with-me boots, somehow seemed a kindred spirit for my battered soul. I realized with some surprise that I didn't feel quite as anxious around her. Her butterfly energy seemed to ground me and rather than fading into the background, I wanted her to see me.

"We should hang out," she said as she held the door open for me and we edged our way into the chaos of the bustling hallway. I nodded while visualizing Alice coming over to Charlie's house and the awkwardness that would ensue. Questions would arise that may be too painful to answer yet. I silently twisted my worries around in my mind as we walked side and side toward our next classes. I was beginning to wonder how long the curious glances would continue to fall on my direction when Alice came to a stop in front of a door.

"This is me," she said, shrugging. "I'll see you around." She pulled the door open but at the last minute turned. "Hey Bella, Jasper's picking me up today. Meet me out front after school and I'll introduce you."

"Okay," I answered, unsure and instantly worried about what kind of impression I was going to make on her boyfriend. I added this meeting to my list of things that filled me with anxiety and my only consolation was that I could scratch it off the list sooner rather than later. I was on an emotional rollercoaster as I walked down the wide corridor looking for my next class. I could only hope that my attempt to contain my flutter of nerves was convincing, but more than ever before, I felt transparent as though all the staring eyes could see right through me.


	4. Travelling Ink

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone for reading! And just as a reminder, this story explores some dark themes. It is rated M because of language, sex, drugs, and other adult themes. If you are easily offended, please do not read this story.

If you haven't checked it out already, please give my other story a look. It is called The Innocent Heart of Darkness.

I haven't done much begging for reviews on this story, but here it goes: Please leave a review! Please! Not only does it let me know what you guys think, it also gets others to read. If you like my story, help me out and leave a review! I promise to write back! I'm really very faithful at replying! Thanks again, and enjoy!

**Chapter 4 – Travelling Ink**

My illuminating talk with Alice in the girl's bathroom opened my eyes and I began to observe my classmates a little more thoroughly. It was clear that most of the kids at my high school had grown up together and seemed to know every little detail about each other's lives. This idea was more than unsettling to me. No matter how silent I was or how much I tried to appear unworthy of attention, there was no hope for me to fade into the background, no possibility for me to hide behind my mediocrity. Any new kid, even boring, plain, broken Bella Swan couldn't slip under the radar at Forks High.

Despite my attempts to avoid interaction with other students I had been bombarded with attention all day. By the end of the school day, though I continued in my attempt to divert questions about my past, I found that I had met more people and talked more than maybe I ever had in my entire life. Everyone seemed to know me when I didn't even know myself. I felt like a turtle without a shell, naked and desperate for cover.

When the dismissal bell rang and I dragged myself along with the throng of other students out to the front of the school I was thoroughly exhausted and felt ready to collapse. I had nothing more to give. I was empty. I had always been strong for Renee because she needed me to be but now I was lost without a reason to keep going. Life had become so unpredictable. I didn't know the rules to this new life.

My eyes shifted from one student to another as they hugged, high-fived, got into their cars, walked side by side, and wondered why it seemed so easy for them. I felt the weight of the realization that I was acutely alone hit me. My insides felt like they were caving inward, hollow, vacant, and void of life. I clasped my arms tightly around my chest to keep from crumbling and held the pieces of myself together.

I spied Jessica Stanley approaching me from the other end of the parking lot. I just didn't have the energy to listen to her loquacious babbling or to figure out how to appropriately respond to her consistently probing questions. Having to face her at this moment almost seemed worse than being alone. Pretending I didn't see her, I took a step backwards and hunched against the cold, concrete wall. I could see her neck craned in my direction, searching for a glimpse of me. I sighed in relief as her focus shifted and she began walking down the parking lot toward a van where a group of kids were clustered, their arms gesturing and hanging on one another familiarly. Rap music blared from the van's speakers, fragments of heavy bass drifting across the moist air and slapping me like a door slammed in the face.

Where was Charlie? I needed to leave this place. I decided to walk to the other end of the school toward the entrance of the lot so I could catch sight of the cruiser before it approached the school. I began walking quickly with my head purposefully down so that my eyes were trained on the feet of the few lingering students I passed. When my eyes landed on a pair of black boots I lifted my eyes and walked right into a cloud of billowing smoke.

"Hey Bella," Alice's voice trilled, "You know that smoke follows beauty?"

"Alice. Hi!" I said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

With some surprise, I realized that my response was genuine. I truly felt relieved and happy to see her again. Strangely, being surrounded by the smoke from her cigarette somehow bolstered me as though she were encasing me in her essence, enfolding me in protective arms, and I felt almost full again.

If she noticed my distress and my distinct inability to act casually, she thoughtfully didn't mention it. She seemed to inherently know to tread lightly around me.

"Oh, there's my honey," she said, smiling hugely. "Jasper!" she yelled, jumping up and down in complete abandon.

"Bella, come on," she grasped my hand in hers and I felt a jolt of apprehension at her touch but the emotion quickly morphed into a small coil of happiness. She tugged me until I hopped forward. Without hesitation, she linked her arm with mine, my eyes falling to her black painted nails as she excitedly nudged me forward. I immediately decided to give up any feelings of trepidation or anxiety and allow myself to be thoroughly captivated by my pixie friend. I had nothing to lose; besides, I couldn't escape the healing power of her infectious energy. Only moments before I was overcome by my feelings of despondency but Alice literally yanked me out of my dark mood. There was simply something about her that instantly soothed me and made me almost feel hopeful.

I was floating on this new and unfamiliar cloud of happiness when I spied the figure we were fast approaching. I first noticed his heavily scuffed black motorcycle boots, the complement to Alice's. My stomach clenched nervously as I shamelessly stared at the very svelte man swinging his muscular leg over the back of his very unusual looking motorcycle. I was embarrassed by my instinctual reaction to the raw sensuality of his lithe movements. I stifled a gasp as he pulled his helmet off revealing a messy head of blond hair. He had piercing blue eyes anchored by perfectly chiseled cheekbones. He oozed masculinity, his gaze landing on Alice as he stalked forward like a hungry feline about to pounce on his prey.

I almost feared for Alice as though she were about to be eaten whole. I glanced at her face, eager to glean from her expression how I should be reacting to this predatory behavior. But her face confused me more than ever. She met his gaze with equal intensity, an impish smile curling at the edges of her lips. Jasper walked intently forward and without my awareness, Alice somehow drew us toward him, closing the space between us.

I couldn't take my eyes off of Jasper's long arms, his flesh a canvas with artwork tattooed on every square inch down to his wrists. From my distance, I could only discern blocks of many colors, with black serpentine lines outlining animalistic forms and bits of concentric, repetitive patterns. I yearned to examine them closer but couldn't imagine that sort of intimacy with anyone. I wondered how far the ink stretched past his exposed arms, whether it travelled across the hard planes of his body. I'd never seen anyone so tattooed and even though I was entirely intrigued I resisted staring openly as we got closer.

Jasper inhaled a deep breath, never breaking his focus on Alice. I could sense the energy vigorously pulsing through her small body as she dropped her arm from mine and launched herself at Jasper. She tucked herself around his torso and I was relieved to see his long inked arms wrap themselves possessively around her. Over her shoulder I saw him break into a beautiful, genuine smile. His face was positively transformed as he held her, curling his body down to her and kissing her forehead sweetly.

Jasper's appearance, like Alice's, seemed designed to repel others but I could see that it was just an act – a protective barrier against the world. Somehow I could sense the sensitive guy beneath the armor. Whether he wanted to or not, Jasper exuded warmth and love, instantly putting me at ease.

Alice wrenched herself backwards out of Jasper's arms and held a hand out for me. I took a tentative step forward but my eyes were fixed to the ground.

"Jasper, this is my new friend, Bella."

"Nice to meet you, Bella," Jasper's voice was rich and inviting and not at all like I expected. He reached out a hand to me and I was forced to step closer to take it. I couldn't stop my eyes from scanning the imagery on his arms as I placed my hand in his.

"I like your tattoos," I blurted without thinking as he shook my hand. But my outburst was met with another one of his sweet smiles. I found myself looking at the ground again, pleased and astonished that my compliment had actually affected him. It was hard for me to believe that someone like him would actually care what I thought.

"Thanks," he said, nodding at me. "You should see Alice's," he added tilting his head toward her and I stifled a gasp as my eyes flew to her face. She shrugged, her lips in a thin line, but didn't offer any further explanation.

I turned back to face Jasper and felt a burst of courage, his easy manner somehow filling me with confidence. I searched for more words, more compliments, secretly hoping to elicit another smile from his beautiful face.

"Your motorcycle is really cool too. Is it vintage or something?" I asked, surprising myself again that the thought actually made it from my brain to my mouth.

"Yeah, it's actually a Harley Davidson XA from 1942. They used the same kind of bike in World War II," he answered with unbridled enthusiasm. "It was my Dad's," he added in a somber tone, his eyebrows coming together slightly. He recovered quickly and pointed to an army green box on the side. "Look, it still has the ammo box. Those are hard to come by."

"Wow, that's amazing," I said, both seduced by his passion for the bike and truly interested in its historical background.

"Thanks, Bella," he said, clapping his hand on my shoulder in an accepting and friendly way. I cursed my body's reaction to his touch as I felt the predictable sensation of heat surging to my face and flushing it an embarrassing mottled red.

"Hey, you're Chief Swan's daughter, right?" he asked as if he had just made the connection. He extended his arm, holding me directly in front of him and looked me squarely in the face.

I nodded and then looked down again. I was so overcome by his strong physical presence that I took a step backwards away from him and bumped into Alice. I wished that I could cover my face to hide the blush that I knew persisted to mortify me. I began to feel the burning in my eyes and blinked against the threat of unprovoked tears. Jasper scrutinized my reaction to his questions with shrewd but compassionate eyes. He instantly shifted his attention away from me, drawing Alice to his side so they were leaning against the motorcycle.

"Well, I'm glad you moved here, Bella. Alice needs a friend to keep her company when I'm away," he lifted his hand and lovingly caressed the side of her face with his index finger.

I turned to look at Alice and she met my gaze with a smile and nod. She moved back in closer to Jasper, wiggling her way under his outstretched arm. Their overt affection for one another both thrilled me and made my dull heart ache. The love they radiated was foreign to me.

"We're having a dinner at my house on Friday night for Jasper before he goes away again. You have to come, okay?"

There was a pleading quality to her tone that I couldn't ignore. The thought of a family dinner at her house frightened me to death but I didn't know how to say no. So I didn't say anything. I tried to think of a way out of it but before I could, Alice took my silence as an acceptance of her offer.

"We'll talk later and I'll give you all the details. Yay! I'm so excited, Bella. My parents are going to love you! Oh, isn't that your dad?" she pointed behind me to where Charlie's police cruiser was pulling into an empty parking spot. I flushed at the sight of the car and fumbled with my bag, hefting it too quickly over my shoulder and stumbling a few steps backward.

"Well, bye," I muttered, confronted with a fresh wave of mortification as I headed for my police escort home.

"Bye Bella. See you tomorrow!" Alice yelled and even though my day was mixed at best, I thought that meeting Alice was possibly one of the highest points of my life.

End Notes:

So what did you guys think of my Jasper? I am more than a little bit in love with him! Remember, Bella has very little experience with boys – and she is simply fascinated by him. Don't worry, Jasper belongs strictly to Alice.

Please Review!!!


	5. A Reason to Live

Chapter 5

A Reason to Live

A/N: Here we finally get to meet Dr. Cullen. Let me know what you think, please. And don't be worried, I promise there will be no pedophilia in this story. But, this is an Edward/Bella story so you need to have a little faith in me and be patient. Bella needs to grow a little.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer is the Twilight goddess; I am only a humble servant, worshipping at her alter. I profit in no way from my use of her incredible characters.

* * *

Before Charlie got out of the cruiser to search for me, I hustled quickly up to the car. I wasn't sure if he was going to interrogate me about my day but I dreaded the invasion of my thoughts. I raised my shoulders like a shield, and steeled myself for the inevitable line of questioning. As I slid down into the worn leather seat, Charlie and I exchanged a quiet greeting. As it appeared that he wasn't going to ask for any details about my day, I felt relief wash over me. I really couldn't wait to get home and take a nap. But as I allowed my defenses to fall away I soon realized that I wasn't so lucky after all.

I'd just buckled up and settled my head on the headrest when Charlie informed me that he had signed me up for a support group that met twice a week, on Mondays and Wednesdays that started right after school. We were headed to the Community Hospital for my first session.

I wasn't going to tell Charlie how tired I was, or how the idea of this support group filled me with fear and trepidation. I wanted to please him, but I was terrified of speaking in front of other people. And talking about what happened with my mom – I felt stabs of pain in my abdomen just imagining opening those wounds. I hadn't had enough time to process my feelings. I wasn't numb enough yet.

Simply because I had been thrown into many new situations before in my life didn't mean that I was prepared for this. No one ever asked Bella Swan how she was feeling. No one ever cared before. I simply survived. This was entirely new territory for me and I didn't know what to expect. My only hope was that there were enough people there that someone else would spend that whole time talking and I could remain invisible.

We spent the drive almost in complete silence, but as Charlie pulled the cruiser into a parking space and cut the ignition, he turned to me. "I forgot to ask you how your first day of school went." A smile graced his lips but his eyes were strained. He was making an effort for me and I felt obliged to keep up the façade of normalcy.

"It was fine," I said with a small smile and a nod to reassure him.

"Well, that's…that's good," he replied awkwardly and I kept my eyes fixed on my lap.

"Okay, well, let's head in. I'll check you in and then I'll be back here to pick you up in an hour and a half." He opened the door and climbed out. I followed, my nerves beginning to kick up little flutters in my stomach.

We entered the side doors of the hospital which led us into a small waiting area. I was relieved to see that this part of the hospital seemed more like a doctor's office than the sterile antiseptic-scented halls I'd been expecting. Charlie walked up to the desk while I held back. I wasn't surprised this time to see the woman at the counter smiling knowingly at Charlie, her easy banter evidence of their friendly acquaintance. I heard Charlie mumble my name and the woman's eyebrows raised as she craned her neck in my direction. I took an unsteady step back at her open inspection of me. Her pink stained lips pinched into a significant smirk as she nodded in a businesslike manner at my father.

I sat down in one of the chairs and picked up an outdated magazine from the side table and randomly flipped through the pages without really reading anything. A few moments later, I caught a glimpse of Charlie's black boots over the edge of the magazine and I looked up with apprehension, awaiting further instructions.

"Okay Bella, you're all set. Mrs. Attinger will show you to the conference room where they are holding your meeting. I'll meet you here to pick you up." He put his hand on my shoulder and this time I didn't flinch but welcomed the contact. His face was sympathetic and caring.

"Bella…I know this might be hard. But I think it will be good for you. And Dr. Cullen is a really good guy. You can trust him." I nodded and tried to smile but I'm sure it looked more like a grimace. He squeezed my shoulder lightly before he turned and left. I felt his absence acutely. I hadn't realized how soothing his presence had been until he walked out the door. The waiting room seemed all of a sudden colder and harsher without him.

I sat back down in my seat and wrung my hands in my lap. My breaths were coming in fast and shallow and I could feel the panic begin to suck the air out of me. I was trying to remember all the things I'd heard about stopping a panic attack from happening when I realized that Mrs. Attinger was calling my name.

I stood up automatically and moved forward toward the front desk, hoping that she couldn't see read how nervous and frightened I was on my face.

"Ok, Bella honey, you're gonna go right down that hallway there on the left and your meeting is in Conference room 3B at the very end. You can't miss it," she said with a wide, false smile, either not noticing or not caring that I was bursting with anxiety.

"Thanks," I somehow managed to squeak out through my lips as I hesitantly moved toward the long carpeted hallway. My feet led me forward toward the end of the hall even though my mind screamed at me to turn and run. Each step seemed to take more effort than usual.

I was halfway there when I heard a flurry of footsteps behind me and turned to see a red-haired girl approaching. She was tall and extremely thin and had sharp, angular features. She was almost skipping down the hall and said a nonchalant "Hey," in greeting as she passed me and went through the door at the end of the hall.

For some inexplicable reason my impromptu meeting with the red haired girl in the hallway startled me enough to give me a tiny burst of courage. I was still reeling from her manic energy when I put my hand on the door handle and pulled open the doorway in to the unknown. I stepped into the room, illuminated brightly with harsh fluorescent light and examined my surroundings.

There were about eight grey metal chairs arranged in a haphazard circle – just like in the group therapy sessions you see in movies and on TV. The red-haired girl was sitting in one, busily digging in the open purse on her lap. There were two guys on the other side of the room talking to each other quietly with their heads bent but when they saw me walk in they turned in my direction and were openly staring.

I found their scrutiny unnerving and scurried over to a seat a few chairs over from the red-haired girl. I tilted my head down, my mousy hair forming a veil around my face and looked down at my hands like they were the most interesting thing on the face of the planet. I was still examining the lines on my knuckles when I heard the door creak open to my side. I couldn't resist looking up to see if another person was joining our group when I found myself looking into a pair of the most exquisitely beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.

*

I felt the air leave my body, inadvertently inhaling a sharp, audible breath. I couldn't rip my eyes from the man who stood before me. He returned my stare and I briefly convinced myself that he felt the inexplicable attraction for me that I was feeling for him. I was completely lost in the moment. He was easily the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He was tall, and his body was riddled with smooth muscles that were clearly discernible under the taut fabric of his grey tee shirt. His bronzed hair was in perfect disarray, framing a face chiseled by the gods with a strong jaw and full lips. As he moved forward to me I could feel the thundering beat of my own heart, pulsing and pumping, filling my head with a pulsating rhythm so that no other thought could take hold.

He had moved in front of me, shuffling the papers in front of him and I dared to overtly stare up at him through my lashes, resisting the innate urge to rise up and touch him, embrace him. My body automatically lifted to a standing position and I felt the trance slip away. I became instantly aware of my surroundings as if I'd been underwater and only just come to the surface – the bright lights, the questioning glares from the others, the draft coming from the air conditioning vent, and the scraping of a chair being moved. I forcibly pushed all the interruptions away so that I could continue to focus my attention on the extraordinarily intense green eyes that were looking at me with hope and what I thought might be a desire that mimicked my own.

It had only been a few seconds but it had felt like much longer that I had been transfixed by his presence in the room. With a start that compelled me to break our stare, I heard a harsh voice whine, "Dr. Cullen, are we going to start, or what?"

My head snapped to the red haired girl and then back to the man before me and I felt my mouth drop open. This beautiful man was the _doctor_? Shit.

"Yes, Victoria," the green eyed man responded, recovering himself quickly and turning his head toward her. Even irritated, his masculine voice enfolded me in its warmth.

He slipped a white coat on over his t-shirt, revealing a sliver of flesh at his hip as he extended his arm. The blood flowed upward from every region of my body, sending a jolt of heat to flush my chest and face. I turned my eyes down for a second and when I raised them Dr. Cullen had rearranged his features. His coat was in place, and his eyes had turned placid and cold. I was so startled by the instantaneous change in his look that I took a step backwards, the back of my knees crashing into the chair.

"You must be Bella. I'm Dr. Cullen." His voice did not betray any emotion, it was as smooth and easy as the rest of him and I had to force myself to react. He outstretched his hand to shake mine and I slipped my fingers forward to meet his. The instant of contact between us was so intense that I flinched and pulled away. I fantasized that he was equally moved by the electricity that flowed between us. His brow furrowed as he dropped his hand and he shot me a questioning glance almost as if he thought I'd zapped him with an electric prod.

Feeling both overwhelmed and at the same time mortified that I was the only one standing in this cold room full of strangers, I slumped down into the hard metal chair. My face was ablaze with embarrassment. I looked down again and listened to Dr. Cullen's footfalls as he retreated to the other side of the room. "Okay, let's begin today's session," he said, his smooth voice cracking slightly, and I lifted my eyes reluctantly.

"Since Bella is new to our group I want us all to introduce ourselves and to say why we are here. I'll start." I was relieved that the situation allowed me to gawk at him openly and I examined him as thoroughly as I could. He appeared entirely professional but I thought I caught a brief glimmer of something more in his expression. _Or could it all be in my imagination? _His eyes ran across the faces in the circle, holding everyone's gaze but when he got to me he stopped and spoke to me, as though I was the only one in the room.

"I'm Edward Cullen. I'm in my first year of psychiatry residency here at Forks Community Hospital. My father, Dr. Carlise Cullen, is also a doctor here at this hospital. I'm twenty-five and I have two siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. I grew up in Forks and well…I guess that's enough about me. James, why don't you go next?"

"Uh, okay," said the guy sitting a few seats to the doctor's left. He had greasy dirty-blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. I imagined that the smarmy smirk he wore was perpetually plastered on his face. He was wearing a Washington Redskins jersey and acid wash jeans that looked uncomfortably tight. As he talked he shifted uneasily in his seat which made me thankful that I was sitting all the way on the other side of the circle from him.

"I'm James," he said in an ingratiating tone. "I'm eighteen and uh, I got in trouble for fighting at a party. And instead of jail, they told me I had to come here." He nervously shifted in his seat and swung his leg up to cross his ankle at his knee. His eyes darted around the room, clearly avoiding contact with the doctor.

"James, that isn't exactly true, is it?" Dr. Cullen said in a sympathetic tone. I couldn't stop my eyes from lingering on the line of his clenched jaw as he waited patiently for James to elaborate. When James piped up with his answer, I reluctantly turned my eyes back to him like everyone else.

"Okay, well, I'm also in here because I was really drunk when I was arrested and I've been arrested before for drinking. And well…" He mumbled the last part of his sentence so that it was scarcely understandable.

"What about your parents, James? You are all in here because of _your parents_. We don't need to hide anything in here. You all have had difficulties. Everyone here can understand. I know I've said it before, but nothing leaves this room. This is a safe environment for us to share our problems. But we nothing will ever change, nothing will ever get better unless we are all honest with ourselves."

Every time Dr. Cullen spoke I felt myself leaning toward his voice as though I could will my soul to leave my body and hover closer to him. His words were like a salve and I wanted nothing more than to have him enfold me in his long, strong arms and make all the pain go away.

"Okay, yeah, so my parents are alcoholics, so what?" James spat blandly.

"We'll get back to that James, but we should move on with the introductions. Laurent?"

I turned my attention to the olive-skinned boy sitting next to James. He was wearing dark jeans and had a black sweatshirt on with the hood pulled up over his head so that just his face was just peeking out. His face was ornamented with piercings; with two rings on one side of his nose, and a barbell through his eyebrow. When he began to speak, I noticed the small round stainless stud that punctured his bottom right lip and his tongue piercing that he unconsciously clacked against his teeth as he talked. The whole effect of the body jewelry should have been intimidating, but there was an innocent softness to his features that belied the threatening effect, exposing his naturally sweet and friendly demeanor.

"My name's Laurent. I'm seventeen. I dropped out of school last year because my Dad was dealing pot and he wanted me to help. I got busted. End of story." He sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over another and stretched so he was practically lying in his seat. He smiled like a satisfied cat and turned his head towards Victoria.

Without any prompting the red-haired girl, Victoria, began speaking. While she spoke she continuously smacked her bubble gum, making a loud snapping noise that was distracting.

"I'm Victoria. I'm eighteen and I'm a senior. I guess I like uh have a few problems. I don't know. Dr. Cullen couldn't you just tell them, okay?" she asked flirtatiously, waving her hand in the air.

"No, Victoria. I think it's important for _you_ to articulate why you are here."

"Well, I'm like a cheerleader, you know? And well, there's a lot of pressure and stuff. And I just screwed up, you know?" She was pretentious and flippant and I wasn't feeling like I could relate to her much when she hiccupped loudly and then crumbled forward into her hands. She started steadily crying. The tears were streaming down her face, dripping off her pointed chin onto her shimmery purple halter top, making big wet splotches on the synthetic fabric. It was incredibly demoralizing to simply sit back and watch her breakdown and I almost felt moved to comfort her but Dr. Cullen's voice drew me back to him.

"Victoria, we've been through this many times. It is not your fault that your mother is addicted to her prescription drugs. You are not here because your cheerleading skills are being questioned. You are here because your mother is a drug addict."

The tears were now streaming down Victoria's face but she nodded in understanding of Dr. Cullen's words. She reached down for her cavernous purse and began digging around for something. Dr. Cullen, sensing what she needed, grabbed a tissue box from a table behind him and reached out his long arm to hand them to her. She pulled one out and set to wiping the salty tracks off her already swollen face.

And now all eyes were turned toward me and I knew that I was supposed to say something but I didn't want to share my pain. It was too raw. But then Dr. Cullen looked directly at me, his eyes had turned warm and inviting again and even though I wondered how he could so quickly change his demeanor, I knew that I would talk for him.

"Bella, it's your turn," he said gently. I felt the air escape my body. Breathing all of a sudden became difficult.

"My name is Bella." My voice though low, I was happy to note, was not squeaky. "I'm almost sixteen." I couldn't help but look at Dr. Cullen when I said my age to see his reaction, but he had a professional mask firmly in place. "I'm here because my mom…my mom was a heroin addict."

My voice began to get stronger, but the words were automatic. Strangely, I thought, of the social worker, Jane, and her robotic tone. My words were so like hers – the flat monotone somehow numbing the effect of the painful words as they fell dully from my lips. Dr. Cullen's face was alight with genuine concern and interest. My vain desire to keep his focus on me prevailed over my flimsy attempt to shield my private hell from these strangers and somehow I found myself exposed, the truth leaking out of my mouth before I was ready to share it.

"Um, she overdosed and…died." I heard Victoria gasp from the opposite side of the circle and her outburst broke my composure. I couldn't believe I had just showed these virtual strangers the most raw, wounded part of me. I was in shock as if a heavy hand had slapped my face.

The air seemed thick and heavy; I pinched my eyes closed and felt the numbness ease down my veins and out through my limbs. I could hear swallowing, the metal legs of a seat scratching against the hard floor, sniffling and then the guttural sound of a throat being cleared. I opened my eyes reluctantly, but kept my gaze honed in on my hands, like snakes in a basket, coiling nervously around each other.

"Bella, if you don't feel ready to share more at this point, we can wait for our next session." Dr. Cullen's soothing voice drew my eyes upward.

I resisted looking in his soulful green eyes knowing I was bound to lose myself again. I was petrified of what man I would find behind his eyes, the one who ignited the need within me or the practiced detached face of the doctor. I tried to look away but found that everyone was focused on me, waiting for a response. I was a captured animal backed into a corner and before I could stop myself, I instinctually looked to Dr. Cullen for help. Instead of desire or fear I recognized the pity in his expression and if possible, I hated myself even more for eliciting that response in him.

I felt a swell of emotions, anger dominating all others and giving me the strength to pull myself out of my corner. I swallowed back the residual twinge of pain that refused to fade and I answered in my robot voice.

"I'm living with my dad now, here in Forks, and he thought that this group might help me, you know…deal with things." My eyes betrayed me and sought _his _approval.

"Thank you, Bella. I agree with your father, I think our group will help you. It is very important for you all to understand that you are still children and are not responsible for the choices your parents make. Not all adults are perfect. We make mistakes all the time. Unfortunately, you are all victims of those mistakes."

I didn't hear anything but one word: children. _Did he just call me a child? _

The rest of the meeting was entirely dominated by Victoria, who couldn't seem to stop her tears from coming. She seemed more than reasonably upset by my words and I was unsure if I was supposed to feel sorry that I had caused so much distress with the story of my fucked up life.

Eventually, Victoria warped my tragedy into her own and segued into her own set of fresh problems. I wondered if each session would be like this. I was relieved that she deflected the attention away from me. But I had enough of my own issues to cope with, and honestly I didn't have much energy or compassion left over to deal with anyone else's problems. I really did feel that we had faced some similar troubles with our Moms, but when she dominated the discussion with petty gripes about the cheerleading squad and maintaining her fragile popularity, I found my eyes glued to the beautiful doctor, my mind wandering, dreaming, and hoping.

Regardless of whatever horrors we may have had in common, I couldn't help but feel jealous that Victoria was able to corner all Dr. Cullen's attention for the remainder of our session. In fact, he seemed strategically focused away from me, as though almost afraid to address me once we got the customary initial introductions out of the way. I could only wonder if he was frightened by the bizarre magnetic energy that I undoubtedly felt volley between us.

I knew that I was young. I was probably naïve. I was certainly inexperienced. But I knew what I felt for him was real. But as the time came for the end of the session and I watched Dr. Cullen leave as smoothly as he entered, I began to doubt myself. What was I thinking? Dr. Cullen was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, he was ten years older than me and I was just _me_, plain, invisible Bella Swan.

*

I followed on the heels of Victoria who picked up her huge purse and stormed out of the conference room in a flurry of exaggerated movement. She was so quick that she had already disappeared from my sight by the time I entered the long hallway. I had only taken two footsteps when I saw a familiar face appear at the end of the hallway.

Jasper's face went from friendly to questioning to distress all within a fraction of a second. He approached with a sallow, worried look marring his beautiful features and I lamented the absence of his bright smile. I felt instantly guilty that in some way my presence in the hallway was responsible for making him unhappy. Shyness and uncertainty controlling my movements, my eyes surreptitiously dropped to the floor as we neared each other. Jasper spoke first.

"Bella, are you in Edward's group?" his words were laced with concern and pity.

"Um, yeah, uh…Dr. Cullen's group…yeah," I stuttered out my response, so flustered by both his physical presence as well as his direct and probing question.

"Really? Um, well I'm sorry, Bella. I guess we're both kind of here for the same reason then."

"What do you mean?" All kinds of questions came to mind, but I didn't really have any idea what he was talking about. Was he late for the group I was in? Why was he here?

"I'm here every Monday evening for group therapy with Edward. Um, it's like Al-Anon; you ever heard of it? It's for family members, and friends of addicts. When you get a little older, you'll graduate from your group and if you still need it, you'll probably end up in our group." He placed his hand on my arm and looked deeply in my eyes.

"Talking about it really helps, Bella. And it does get easier with time. I've gotta get going. See you later, okay?"

He squeezed my arm comfortingly, the corners of his mouth turning into a smaller, more somber smile than I'd seen on him earlier, but it unexpectedly made me feel better. He continued down the hall and I watched his long, languorous stride as he disappeared behind the door from where I had just emerged.

I walked down the last stretch of the long hallway, all my nerves on edge. It had been an excruciatingly trying day. Every thread of my fragile emotional web was pulled taught, threatening with every new tangle to snap, or to completely unravel. I hoped as I turned the corner that I appeared more composed than I was; I didn't want to upset Charlie with my weakness.

I found my father in the waiting room looking amazingly relaxed and I was surprised at how instantly happy I was to see him. I marveled at how comfortable he seemed in his own skin, confident in a way that I worried I would never be.

He smiled at me when I approached and we walked silently out to the cruiser. We were nearly home when Charlie awkwardly cleared his throat and I silently prepared myself for whatever he might have to say.

"Um, so how'd it go?" he asked tentatively.

"It was okay…I mean it was interesting."

"Do you think it's gonna be helpful…you know, um to have some other people to talk to?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I answered. I had no idea if the group therapy was going to help me to deal with my mom's death or figure out how to be a normal girl. But I wanted to keep going to the group. No, I _needed _to keep going to the group – if just to see and be near Dr. Cullen. In his bottomless green eyes I had found a reason to get up in the morning, to keep breathing, a reason to live.

"Well I'm glad, Bella. I'm real glad," he said, turning to me briefly, stretching his face into a warm smile that tugged at my cold heart.

**End Notes:**

Hey you, yeah you! Leave me a review!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Welcome all my new readers. Lots of you have voiced your concern about the age difference between Bella and Edward in this story, but I promise that it will eventually not be an issue. This story is going to span a large amount of time and we will jump ahead into the future soon where their relationship will be dramatically different.

Thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I know it's different, but the journey will be well worth it in the end.

Chapter 6 No Turning Back

Before long we were home and I dragged my tired body up to the house. When we walked through the door I was immediately reminded of how alien I felt in this setting. What was my routine now? Where should I put my backpack? Where would I do my homework? Each step I took after walking through the door felt contrived. I questioned every movement and doubted each gesture. I wondered if I would ever feel completely at home here.

Charlie sensed my bristling anxiety and tiptoed around me even more than usual. His extra care only enhanced my guilt and made me even more uncomfortable in his presence. Every time he asked me how I was doing or if I needed something I became deeply aware of just how much I'd disrupted his life. I found myself constantly faced with the prickly awkwardness of two strangers trying to learn how to live with one another and coexist in the same space. I felt unworthy of his attention, his affection. He was a good man and he deserved a better daughter – one who had more to offer and who wasn't so broken.

*

I was ashamed of my weaknesses and of my fear of developing a relationship with Charlie so I avoided him, spending the majority of my time at home holed away in my room. I was most comfortable in this self-imposed isolation. I did my homework on my bed, all my books spread out in a circle around me. And when I'd finished, I pulled out one of the few books I possessed, leaned against the dark wood headboard and settled in to read.

Renee never let me get a library card, citing that it was a perfect way for the government to keep tabs on us. I never understood why they would care about a poor single mom and her invisible daughter but she was uncharacteristically adamant about it. Perhaps if she had purchased a few books for me over the years I might be a little more well-read. I had read my few books so many times that I could easily quote my favorite passages, but I new little about most other literature. As it was, I only had the same old paperbacks to keep me company through the long lonely nights in my new home.

I scanned the bedside table. Did I want to read _Pride and Prejudice _again? The only other book that I had somehow managed to hang onto was John Irving's, _A Prayer for Owen Meany_. I sighed heavily. Neither of these books was going to provide a sufficient distraction or make me feel particularly happy. I blindly opened _A Prayer for Owen Meany_ to a random page in the middle of the book and started reading. It didn't really matter where I started; I knew the story well enough to delve in at any part. I had been reading for nearly an hour when my stomach began to noticeably rumble; I instantly worried that Charlie might be hungry too.

I carefully placed my book back on the bedside table, not bothering to mark my place, and gingerly headed down the stairs. Charlie was sitting on the couch, a beer in hand, a baseball game blaring out loudly from the big television. I moved in slowly to ask him if he'd like me to make him some dinner when I realized his eyes were closed and he was lightly snoring. He was peaceful, appearing more vulnerable as he slept, and I felt a surge of affection for him. I realized at that moment that he needed someone to take care of him just as much as Renee did. I wriggled the beer can out of his hand without waking him, placed it on the coffee table, and shuffled off to the kitchen to cook something up for us.

*

My second day at school was much like the first, though I was a little less of a novelty and therefore a little less interesting. I began to walk through the halls with more certainty, remembering the correct path to each of my classes and the ways to avoid the largest crowds. As my nerves relaxed infinitesimally, I was able to observe things that I had slipped my notice when I was trying so hard to blend in my first day – graffiti marring a rack of gray lockers, anti-drug posters on the hallway wall, a pink flyer taped the door of the girl's bathroom advertising an upcoming dance.

I successfully managed to avoid Jessica all day despite her attempts to pass notes to me in our homeroom class. Alice found me hopelessly loitering around the cafeteria at lunch time, trying to find a seat before it became obvious that I didn't have anywhere to go. She dragged me behind her to a long picnic-style table nestled in the corner of the cold cafeteria, where we began to eat our lunch with little talk. I was thankful that she didn't feel compelled to grill me or fill the silence with meaningless conversation. Strangely the silence didn't seem uncomfortable or awkward, just peaceful.

I couldn't help staring at her flawless skin as I ate. After several minutes of secret glances, I came to the conclusion that Alice reminded me of a kind of modern version of Snow White. She seemed almost too dainty, too precious for the cold concrete walls, muddy vinyl floors, and plastic picnic tables of the Forks High cafeteria. Despite her inky hair, dark red stained lips, and audacious knee-high boots, she was lovely, unique and charming. She seemed as out of place here as a blooming rose in the desert.

My gaze shifted when I noticed that Alice had become preoccupied with her lunch, her small hands busily sifting through the metal box before her on the table. Her lunch was neatly organized in the black rectangle; smaller lidded containers nestled tightly inside. My curiosity got the best of me and I craned my neck to sneak a peak at what food she could possibly have crammed into the collection of tidy boxes. The first lid came off revealing something green, possibly spinach. Next, she peeled off three more of the little lids to reveal what appeared to be dried cranberries, almonds, and perfectly cut wedges of green apple. I couldn't help but glance between my lunch - the dry cheeseburger and limp but soggy french fries on my tray – and her carefully conceived meal and wonder at the vast incongruity between the two. My curiosity got the best of me.

"Is that all you're eating for lunch?" I asked as she pushed an almond through her lips and began to crunch it between her back teeth.

"Yep," she answered succinctly, offering no explanation.

"Is that how you always eat?" I asked while lifting the bun off the top of my burger to examine the gray patty. Revolted by the look of it, I let it fall unceremoniously back onto my plate. I was beginning to realize just how unique and intriguing Alice was; I had never met anyone like her. My desire to understand her overcame my residual shyness and uncertainty.

"Yes. I only eat raw food – food in its most basic form. It's good for you. I stopped eating cafeteria food a couple of years ago. I like to be healthy."

"But you smoke and everything," I blurted without thinking, realizing after the fact that it seemed like an attack. I panicked, searching my mind to think of the words to say to repair my blunder when Alice reached out and put her hand on my arm. I was rigid, bracing myself for her to go on the attack. A fragment of memory assaulted me without provocation. I remembered the feeling of hopelessness, the bottomless pit where I lived for so long, as I fought to hold back the image of Renee – my thin, wasted mother - that pushed itself forward to the forefront of my mind. I closed my eyes, needing to erase the sound of her voice screaming at me from the grave, begging me not to judge her, telling me that I would never understand her pain.

Alice's hand squeezed my arm and I was brought back to the moment. I hoped with all my heart that I didn't hurt and alienate my friend, like I had my mother. I held my breath and waited, preparing myself for the anger and pain, for the inevitable onslaught of emotions. My head fell forward and my shoulders rounded – my typical pose – and I prepared myself.

"Yeah, so what…I smoke. I'm young. I won't smoke forever. A girl has to have some vices, right? Bella, are you okay?" Her brows pinched together as she looked at me with genuine concern.

"Um, yeah, I just thought you'd be mad at me."

"Heck no, it takes a lot more than that to make me mad."

"Oh," unfortunately, was the only response I was capable of giving.

I took a few more bites of my bland burger and then pushed my tray of food to the side, placing my elbows on the table and resting my chin on my hands. I watched Alice as she continued to nibble on her meal fit for a rabbit and resolved that I would try with all my might to heal my wounds. I needed to learn how to be a whole person again, someone not boring and flat but interesting and alive. With all my heart, I wanted to be worthy of Alice's friendship. I would do whatever it took to hold onto my first true friend.

*

When the final bell of the day rang I entered the hallway with the rest of the students and began to shuffle my way toward the front of the school. As I was jostled among all the moving bodies, I concentrated on each step, trying to look casual while holding my heavy books in my arms. I was startled out of my forward progress by Alice yelling my name, her lilting voice penetrating through the clamor of the crowd until I pivoted in a circle to see her hastily skipping up to walk next to me.

I smiled at my friend and we headed out front to wait together. Jasper was apparently picking up Alice all week before he left for the mountains on Sunday. Next week, she told me, she would drive her own car. I tried to imagine what kind of car she drove but I hesitated to ask.

Jasper arrived on his motorcycle soon after we made it to the main staircase. He dismounted, but before he took a step in our direction, Alice ran up and grabbed his hand, mumbling something in his ear. He nodded and followed her up the steps toward where I stood, still fumbling with the heavy load in my arms.

"Bella, we're going to wait with you until your Dad gets here. We don't want you waiting alone," Alice said. Before I could protest, Jasper spoke, a meaningful expression on his face.

"How are you today, Bella?" I glanced from his knowing look to Alice's innocent expression and understood that he hadn't told Alice about our bumping into one another the night before. He seemed to be telling me without words that he wouldn't betray my trust.

I wasn't deliberately keeping any secrets from Alice but our brief interactions at school hadn't really given me any opportunities to fill her in on all my personal drama. I knew that I would tell her eventually. But truly, I wasn't sure when I would be ready to spill my guts to her and reopen those wounds. Would Alice still want to be my friend, knowing what kind of pathetic life I'd led? My only hope was from Jasper – who clearly had some problems of his own. If Alice could overcome whatever demons he faced, perhaps she would disregard mine.

"I'm okay, how are you?" I finally answered.

"I'm good. I'm looking forward to getting back to work next week. I'll just miss you guys, you know?" Warmth flooded my body at his statement. He would miss _me_? I was more than surprised and equally flattered. I also felt a tinge of guilt that his words had such a physical affect on me.

Alice was so lucky. Jasper was charming, sensitive, and kind - all wrapped up in one hot, sexy package.

Just as I was feeling the familiar heat in my face begin to dissipate, I lifted my eyes to see a little, white Volkswagen Rabbit swerve into the parking lot at a ridiculously fast speed. Its tires squealed as it came to an abrupt stop directly in front of the stairs where we were waiting. The driver's door swung open and an explosion of loud music came bellowing out. An extremely tall boy emerged from the vehicle and I marveled how he could fit his long body in such a small car. He turned to face the stairs and my heart lurched from my chest.

He was looking directly at me, a huge Cheshire cat smile on his face, and he was extremely beautiful. He had long, ink black hair pulled in a low ponytail which accented his strong features – his gorgeous deep, reddish skin, his dark almond shaped eyes, and his straight, sharp nose.

He literally skipped up the stairs toward me, almost flying over the last few steps. From the look on his face I almost feared he was going to hug me or pick me up. With trepidation, I stumbled backward a few steps to put some distance between us.

"Bella, I can't believe you're finally here," he said eagerly, his youthful voice betraying his age.

I looked at the extraordinary boy-man in front of me, who obviously knew who I was, with incredulity and skepticism. I turned to my side to see Alice with her hands on her hips and a pissed look on her face.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked. "And how do you know Bella, because she clearly doesn't know you."

I could only imagine that I looked like a deer caught in the headlights – my eyes wide and mouth open. I tried to rearrange my features to appear as though I had my shit together when I felt anything but sure of myself.

"I'm Jacob Black. I guess Bella doesn't really know me," he said, and if possible his smile widened even more. "But I know her," he added, his tone arrogant.

"How do you know me?" I squeaked, as my pathetic little voice returned. Jasper, in a soothing gesture, put his hand on my shoulder.

"My dad and your dad, Charlie, they're best friends. I've known about you for…well, like forever."

"What are you doing here, dude?" Jasper questioned, and I couldn't have been more thankful that he stepped in and asked what I had been wondering so that I didn't have to.

"Oh, I'm here to give Bella a ride home. There was some big car accident just outside of town and Charlie got stuck there. He called me and asked if I could pick you up. I rushed to get here after I got home from school."

"Why don't you go to school here?" Alice piped in.

"Oh, I go to school on the Res, little pixie," Jacob answered. Alice skin flushed, but I couldn't tell if it was because she was mad at the comment or simply embarrassed.

While all this talking was happening the books in my hands seemed to grow heavier and heavier. I was shifting the huge volumes in my already bruised arms to adjust my grip when Jacob's huge hand reached out and grabbed a hold of them, easily wrestling them from my tenuous grip.

"Come on, Bella," he yelled over his shoulder, already descending the stairs. I turned a tentative glance to Alice and Jasper to see that they were both scrutinizing Jacob curiously.

"Bye guys, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," I said before I followed him to his car, slipping nervously into the passenger seat.

We drove in silence for a few minutes before Jacob leaned over toward me, placing his hand familiarly on my shoulder. I was thoroughly startled by his touch and by his obvious disregard for personal boundaries. I wriggled away, his hand dropping heavily to the back of the seat.

"Why is it that you act like we already know each other?" I blurted in my irritation.

"Because…I just feel like I already know you, Bella. I mean, I've known about you my entire life."

"How is that possible?"

"Look, I really don't know if it's my place to tell you all this," he said, shifting in his seat so that his body was positioned toward me. "But Charlie talks about you all the time. He always has. He really loves you, whether you know it or not. Have you been in his bedroom yet – it's like a shrine to you – all your school pictures and stuff."

"Wait…what do you mean? How did he get my school pictures? Look, I didn't even know about Charlie until my mom…uh…until…"

"Yeah, um, I'm sorry about your mom, Bella," Jacob cut off my stuttering, his sympathy seeming genuine. "My mom died a couple of years ago, too. It's been pretty hard but you just go on, you know?"

I nodded, the huge lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. I still wanted to know about how Charlie got a hold of my school pictures so when I found my voice again, I brought it up.

"The pictures…how did Charlie get them? My mom didn't send them, did she?"

"No way! Your mom didn't ever want your dad to know where you were. She never sent anything – not even a note to let him know that you were okay or anything."

"Why? I don't get it. Why did she hate him so much? I asked about my dad when I was younger but she would never tell me anything. I thought that maybe he was so horrible, like a criminal or something, that she was trying to block it out, to forget. But Charlie isn't like that at all. I just don't understand."

"Yeah, I don't really get it either and neither did Charlie. He spent a lot of money to hire a private investigator from Seattle to find you, but every time they got close to finding you, you'd already moved away."

"Why did he try so hard to find me? I mean, did he want custody of me or something?"

"Well…that's the weird thing. I really don't think he ever wanted to take you away from your mom unless the situation was bad, you know? But he just wanted to see you, to know you, to find out that you were okay. That's why he was so happy a couple of years ago when he found that box of stuff that you guys must have left behind when you moved. It had all kinds of shit in it – your report cards, school photos, and crap like that. You would have thought that it was a box full of jewels – the way he treasured that stuff. I think he framed every single one of those photos, even the little ones. There's a whole wall in his room with them."

I felt a tingling all through my body before the tears began to flow down my face. Knowing that Charlie had wanted to see me, to be with me all this time, was truly overwhelming. I had felt so unloved, so disposable for so much of my life that it was heartbreaking to know that my father had been out there searching for me and worrying about me.

Jacob noticed my silent tears and was alarmed. "Hey Bella, what's the matter? Are you okay?" He reached over and wiped a tear from my face before it dropped from my chin.

I nodded. I didn't want to explain my feelings to Jacob. I was beginning to feel more comfortable with him but I was too emotional to communicate.

"Hey, I'm sorry Bella; I didn't mean to make you cry. Really."

"It's not you, Jacob. It's just…I didn't know. I didn't know at all." He nodded as though he understood. His eyes were sympathetic, but his mouth was twisted in a scowl as if he had more to say but wasn't sure if he should.

He furrowed his brow, seemingly resolved to continue. He cleared his throat with importance, his expression serious. He slowed the car and turned to face me, making sure that our eyes connected.

"Charlie's a great guy, Bella. And he really loves you," he said with meaning. "Give him a chance."

"I will," I said quietly, breaking his stare and looking down at my hand in my lap.

I felt torn up inside. I could hardly believe that I was holding myself together. Everything was so new and it all rubbed me so raw. I'd lost my mother but I'd found my father. I had a house and a friend for the first time in my life. I knew that I should begin to embrace life, to live, but I wasn't entirely positive that I was ready to handle all this.

I twisted my fingers around one another and thought of how much things had changed. I was still the same Bella but I just didn't feel like that invisible girl anymore. I had been programmed not to expect anything out of life, not to hope, and yet, I was beginning to feel a glimmer. And always in the back of my consciousness was a tangled web of confusing and utterly uncontrollable feelings and emotions that bubbled to the surface whenever I thought of my beautiful doctor. Deep inside my heart burned a secret flame of hope - that someday, somehow, we would be together in all ways possible – heart, mind, body and soul.

Minutes later, Jacob pulled up to the front of my house. I felt a strong impulse to let him know how much I appreciated what he'd said, to let him know how his words had awakened something inside of me. Before I got out of the car, I looked him in the eye, boldly grabbing his hand in my trembling one. It was warm and surprisingly smooth. He looked at me in surprise, but relaxed his hand in mine without resistance. I lightly squeezed it and with as much sincerity as I could muster I said, "Thank you. Thank you for telling me."

I clumsily ran from the car to the house before Jacob could see me collapse. As soon as the door closed behind me, I crumbled to the floor. I couldn't keep the sobs at bay, my chest was heaving from the effort to keep myself together, to keep from ripping in two. But I just couldn't hold it in anymore – there was no longer anywhere inside to hide, no way to prevent my wounds from seeping to the surface. I would never be numb again because the hollow spaces in my heart had started to heal and disappear.

There was no turning back from here. I was devastated by my emotions. And I knew that this was just the beginning.

*


	7. Chapter 7

A/N:

I'm sorry that it took me a while to post this chapter. I had it ready but I simply got muddled down by RL. And then when I finally went to post it, I spent two utterly frustrating days trying to upload it to the website. For some inexplicable reason, this chapter seems to be cursed and the site would not convert my file. The next chapter is ready also and if the website will cooperate, I will post it within the next few days.

There will be more Edward/Bella interaction in the next few chapters. Please do not worry about Jacob – I promise no love triangles. I had no idea how many of you hate his character. I hope that you like him a little more in my version – having another male character that Bella can depend upon is important. She doesn't yet have too many people in her life that care about her, but that is beginning to change. Please keep reading – the plot is thickening!

Thank you to my beta, ms_ambrosia, who actually got to look at this one before I got anxious and posted it here with grammar errors and all. She's fantastic and has a great story of her own, Blossom. Check it out! And if you haven't already, give my other fic a looksie – The Innocent Heart of Darkness.

Thanks and Happy Reading!!!

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns the characters, but I put Bella in therapy.

***

Chapter 7

Looking Forward

The next few days at school I slipped into some semblance of a normal life. I felt myself easing into my new reality. I still experienced brief moments of panic, and I was still plagued with feelings of insecurity, where my future seemed so uncertain that it seemed like I had nothing solid to hold onto to get myself through the day. Yet these moments were coming more sporadically, and I clung to the few little things that made my days worthwhile – like lunch with Alice.

Surprisingly, I'd found something else at school to look forward to – 5th period Journalism class with Mrs. Clearwater. I was too preoccupied with my anxiety the first few days of class to realize that she wasn't like the other teachers. She was unique – not just for a teacher, but a truly unique person. I found myself anxious to go to her class, not in a bad sick-to-your-stomach way, but in an I-can't-wait-to-get-there kind of way.

Mrs. Clearwater was an exotic and beautiful Quileute Indian woman and a passionate journalist. From the moment I started paying attention, I found every word that came out of her mouth gripping and inspiring. Her words lifted the fog from my brain. Her dark, intelligent eyes seemed to see deeper than others; when they were turned toward me I felt exposed, as though she knew what I was hiding.

She wore her black hair plaited in a long braid down her back, which dusted back and forth across her shoulders when she turned from the board to face the class. But what was most captivating about her was her sharp and biting wit. For her, journalism was about "truth," and she didn't suffer fools; she took no one's bullshit.

I had never had a teacher like her and there was something about her that made me wake up. I felt an instant and deep need to not disappoint her. She was demanding, fierce, and straightforward. Her ferocity and passion for the subjects she brought up, whether it was the conservation of the gray wolves in the area, or the plight of the local lumber industry, made me feel as though I'd existed in a self-centered and self-absorbed bubble. Her words tore through me, making me realize that that there were other issues, other injustices in the world, beyond my own personal tragedy to consider and to champion. Her class actually made me forget my problems for a while. I was beginning to relish the escape from the messed up torment of my mind.

My first writing assignment for the paper was supposed to explore some element of the gray wolf conservation program. Each day we spent part of our class room time on the computer, trolling the few "district approved" websites on the internet for data to help formulate our articles. There were actually quite a few websites dedicated specifically to my subject, but rather than making it easier to come up with an angle for my story, I found myself getting buried in all the information.

My distress must have been obvious because Mrs. Clearwater approached, placed her hand on my back and leaned over my shoulder. She glanced at the website I had been reading on my computer. Without pause, she grabbed the mouse out of my hand and maximized the image that was open – that of a scrawny looking gray wolf sitting in the snow, its cub nuzzled between its legs.

"You know," she said, a mischievous smile on her face, "the Quileute have many stories about the wolf. There are quite a few tales of how the fate of my people is connected to them. They are in all our stories, our folklore."

"Really, wow that's so cool," I responded, my interest piqued.

"I don't want to influence you if you've already decided on an outline for your article, Bella. But it might make an interesting piece. There's a lot of interest in the wolves down at the res."

"Um, I mean…yes," I stuttered. "That sounds really fascinating. I would love to write about the…the…legends and stuff."

"Well, if that's the case, perhaps you should make a trip out to the reservation, visit the cultural center, and the library."

"Yeah, that would be great!" I said with an enthusiasm I hadn't felt for anything in a really long time.

"Well, good, I'm looking forward to reading it," Mrs. Clearwater said before shifting her attention to the boy who was sitting next to me. One glance at his computer and I could tell he was in trouble. It looked like he was playing some sort of online card game and he realized way too late that Mrs. Clearwater was standing behind him.

She cleared her throat loudly before she spoke. "Ben that looks pretty interesting. You winning?" I heard her say, her voiced laced with sarcasm.

The bell rang just then and I stood, gathering my things, sparing a quick glance toward Ben. He was sitting frozen in place, our teacher's lovely hands clamped to his shoulders. His head hanged down, shielding his eyes from view. As I walked out of the room I reminded myself never to do anything to get on Mrs. Clearwater's bad side.

After school I found myself again standing with Alice at the top of the stairs waiting for Charlie. I expected that Charlie would be on time because my next support group meeting was tonight. Waiting was excruciating; I was stewing with mixed emotions – apprehension topping the list. I wasn't exactly looking forward to sharing more of the tragic circumstances of my life with the group. And yet, I couldn't deny that Dr. Cullen had been on my mind constantly. In every quiet moment my thoughts wandered to him. I had endless conversations with him in my head, his words worming their way into my consciousness. He had become the subject of all my waking fantasies.

I was thinking of Dr. Cullen when Alice spotted Jasper and ran out to the lot to meet him. She began to drag him back up the stairs where I was standing when I stopped them, my hand outstretched.

"You guys don't have to wait with me today. I'm sure my dad will be here soon," I explained, nodding reassuringly.

"Are you sure, Bella? It's really no big deal for us to wait," Alice offered sincerely, but I could tell she was anxious to leave. She and Jasper had only a few more days together before he left to go work in the mountains. I felt a little guilty for dominating Alice's attention when I knew if I wasn't around she'd be entirely focused on Jasper.

"I'm totally sure. You guys go ahead and go," I smiled, hoping that it looked more natural than it felt.

"Well, okay. See you tomorrow," Alice said, slipping Jasper's extra helmet on her head. With one fluid, effortless motion his tattooed arm heaved her tiny body over the motorcycle seat. I watched his lean muscles flex under the strain but he seemed entirely unaffected by the effort. Before he put his own helmet on, he looked at me with a warm, easy smile that caused my entire body to blush in response.

Alice's arms wrapped around Jasper's body, her thighs nestled around his. I felt the urge to look away to give them some privacy, their gestures with one another always seemed so intimate, so sensual. But I didn't. I stared at them, hoping against all hope that someday that I would find what they had with each other. I wondered if love like theirs was possible for me. Was there was a man out there somewhere who would love me the way that Jasper loved Alice?

"See ya around, Bella," Jasper said as he revved the motorcycle's engine. He raised his arm to wave bye as they peeled out of the lot. Within minutes, they disappeared from view.

It wasn't long after they left that a familiar Volkswagen Rabbit pulled up directly in front of the stairway and I bent down to pick up my books and backpack.

"Hey, Bella," Jacob said as he approached, grabbing my stuff out of my hands and leaping back down the stairs. Did he ever go down the stairs like a normal person?

"Hi Jacob, I take it my dad is busy again?"

"Yep," he answered, not offering any more information.

"Well, thanks for picking me up. It's really nice of you," I said, feeling guilty that he had to pick me up two days in a row.

"It's no prob, really."

"Well. I hope Charlie is making it worth your while, like giving you gas money or something."

"Don't worry, Bella. It's totally worth my while," Jacob said with meaning.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

"Never mind," Jacob said, smiling and shaking his head as if I was being dense.

"Well, okay."

He started the car and we pulled out of the lot. I turned to him, not sure if he knew that I needed to go to the hospital for my session or not. I was embarrassed to bring it up, and I didn't want to have to explain why I was going, but I had to tell him before he drove me all the way home.

"Jacob, did Charlie tell you that I needed to be dropped off for a meeting?"

"Yep," Jacob answered and smiled. He reached out and patted my knee.

"Don't worry, Bella. Just think of me as your own personal chauffeur."

I rolled my eyes at him but I couldn't help being effected by his good mood. He seemed perpetually happy as if he approached the world in a light-hearted way, not letting anything bring him down.

I was thankful that he didn't find it necessary to mention why we were headed to the hospital. I wanted to know what Charlie had told him about my meeting, but not enough that I would broach the subject.

As we passed by a stand in front of a gas station that sold wooden carvings of bears and wolves I remembered my discussion with Mrs. Clearwater about going to the Quileute Reservation to do research for my article. I hesitated to ask Jacob if he would take me to the Reservation sometime, he'd already done enough to help me out by driving me around. But I really didn't want to go there alone, so I brought it up.

"Jacob, would you take me to the reservation with you sometime soon?" I asked.

He looked at me with a surprised expression that quickly morphed into a huge smile, "Yeah that would be awesome, Bella! Why do you want to go?"

"I'm writing an article for the school paper about gray wolves and their importance to the Quileutes, like in the stories and cultural traditions and stuff," I answered.

"Really?" he said with the same baffled expression as though I told him I wanted to go dance naked in the forest.

"Yeah really. I need to do some research and my teacher said that I could go to the library and the cultural center to get some material. Would you go with me?" I asked.

"Sure as shit, I will!" he answered effusively. "I'll introduce you to a bunch of people too. I bet some of the elders could give you some good stuff for your paper too!"

"Can we go soon? Like maybe on Sunday?" I offered tentatively, knowing that he probably had other things to do and not wanting to sound like I expected him to change his plans for me.

"Totally, Sunday, yes," he answered, nodding, turning his head to smile at me again. "I'll pick you up at your house at eleven, okay?"

"Sure, thanks so much, Jacob. I really appreciate it," I said with sincerity.

"No prob, Bella. It will be fun!" he said and I couldn't help giggling at his enthusiasm.

The last stretch of our drive was nearly silent, with Jacob only making the occasional comment on the businesses we passed. He pointed out the diner with the best pancakes, the auto shop where I should get my oil changed if I had a car, and the biker bar that I should never walk by while alone at night. Thankfully, his stream of conversation only required me to nod or murmur a few words of recognition every few minutes or so.

I could only pay half a mind to Jacob's words; my mind was occupied with thoughts of what I would soon face in my support group. What would be expected of me? Would I have to reveal more about my life, my thoughts, my fears, my worries? Dr. Cullen's piercing green-eyed gaze invaded my thoughts, and I again felt the familiar coil, knotting itself in my stomach.

"Should I park over here?" Jacob asked as we neared the edge of the hospital complex.

"Over there," I pointed to the north entrance of the building.

Just as Jacob pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine, a flashy red BMW slid to a stop, ignoring the painted parking lines and cutting across them horizontally. I climbed out of Jacob's rabbit at the same time that Victoria stumbled out of the passenger side of the BMW. She leaned in to say something to the driver, her hands gripping the edge of the door. As she rotated her body, a woman's voice belted out toward me.

"Victoria. Victoria! Are you listening to me? Honey, don't be mad!" the woman yelled, not caring that we were witnessing their exchange.

Victoria seemed to sense that Jacob and I were standing behind her and turned toward us, tears pooling in her eyes. She didn't acknowledge me, but looked over Jacob quickly, her mouth open and cheeks flushing. Ignoring her mother's continued pleas, she slammed her car door. With one last glance over her shoulder toward where we stood, she stomped off to entrance of the building, pouting and huffing the entire way.

I caught a glimpse of the red-haired driver as I watched the BMW's erratic departure. I started to follow Victoria's path when I realized that Jacob had gotten out of his car and was walking along side me.

"Jacob, you don't have to come in," I said, not really knowing if I meant it. I couldn't deny that his presence was soothing.

"Your dad told me to make sure you were settled inside before I left," he said with authority, puffing out his chest. If I wasn't so nervous I probably would have chuckled at his over-eager interpretation of his duty, but for now, I was thankful for his diligence. I didn't want to wait alone.

We were a bit early and Victoria was the only other person in the waiting room. After seeing the weird scene outside, I gravitated away from her and toward a bank of chairs on the other end of the room. Jacob sat down next to me, picking up the auto magazine from the table in front of him, crossing one of his incredibly long, lanky legs over the other.

"Cool, this is the issue with all the new hybrid muscle cars that they're coming out with."

"Huh…oh, yeah, cool," I mumbled, wishing that I could share Jacob's fascination, and trying to convey at least a smidgen of enthusiasm for the glossy photo of the curvy red sports car on the open page.

Even though I'd begun to change, to find little bits of life to grasp onto, people that excited and inspired me, at the core, I was constantly afraid of slipping into a state of numb apathy where nothing seemed important or meaningful. Jacob, in contrast, seemed to find something interesting in almost everything. It was a true gift and I was envious of his ability to embrace life so completely. I hoped some of his brightness would rub off on me.

I hadn't known Jacob long, but each time I was with him I admired his ability to float on the surface of things, and to not overanalyze everything like I always did. I almost envisioned a future where he and I would become good friends. Unlike with Alice and Jasper, who were especially perceptive, I felt like I didn't have to worry that Jacob would look too deeply and discover that I was lacking. And yet, I couldn't deny that I even with him, I worried that if we spent more time with each other that he might not like what he sees in me. Even Jacob might find that I was only a broken shell of a person.

While Jacob flipped through the pages of his magazine, continually pointing out things he thought were stupid or cool, my eyes wandered around the room. Like Jacob, Victoria was reading a magazine on her lap, but she kept sneaking peeks in our direction. I was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable when I realized that it wasn't me she was looking at – it was Jacob. Of course he was entirely oblivious of her attention. I was trying to decide whether or not I should point it out to him when Mrs. Attinger told us to head on back to the conference room where our session was held.

Jacob stood with me, and without hesitation reached over to pull me into a huge bear hug.

"Bye Bella. I hope you have a good time," he said with such earnestness that I couldn't help but smile in thanks.

"Bye Jacob," I whispered, turning and colliding directly into Victoria who had moved up right behind us.

"Hi Bella," she said with mock enthusiasm, grasping my arm painfully. "Hi," she said in a higher-pitched tone to Jacob. She blushed a fiery red, turned her head quickly away from him, and scurried down the hall, dragging me with her.

"Oh my god, Bella, how do you know Jacob Black?"

"What? Oh, his dad is my dad's best friend," I said before I realized that I didn't have to explain anything to her and that I didn't really want to either.

"You are so lucky. He is like the most popular guy in the entire town. He's the quarterback for the school in La Push and he's so awesome that scouts from colleges are already looking to recruit him. And it doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous. God, you have to introduce me! Please, Bella," she pleaded.

"Um, okay," I answered, not really knowing how to say no. But her words swirled through my mind, churning up thoughts I hadn't had until now. Jacob really was incredibly handsome. And he had a great personality too. Why hadn't I noticed before now?

***

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	8. Morsel of Knowledge

A/N:

This chapter was really fun to write; I hope you guys like it. We get to know a little more about almost all the characters here. Sorry again for the delay; apparently I wasn't the only one having difficulty uploading my chapters. Please drop me a review if you like the chapter. It really makes my day to know that you are enjoying reading the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

I have to thank my wonderful beta and friend, ms_ambrosia, whose generosity, kindness, and intelligence I will forever be thankful!

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns the names. I put Bella in therapy.

***

Morsel of Knowledge

My thoughts about Jacob were thoroughly abandoned as soon as we walked into the meeting room and my eyes fell upon the beautiful doctor who was truly the manifestation of every girl's fantasy. It wasn't just his incredible emerald eyes, his strong masculine jaw, or his long, elegant fingers that captivated me, but it was some mysterious magnetic quality that drew me to him. My soul ached for him. I longed for him in a crushing, bruising, incapacitating way. My entire body went into a crazy tumultuous transformation every time I saw him, as though my molecules were reworking themselves to create a biological pattern that most complimented his.

When Dr. Cullen began to speak, I was sitting next to Victoria, though I had no idea how I'd ended up there. All the usual suspects were present – James in the same pair of acid- wash jeans, but this time with a Rolling Stones concert t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. Laurent sat next to him wearing a grey hoodie, dark circles conspicuously framing his round, brown eyes. Victoria had removed her jacket, revealing the low-cut, red tank top she wore underneath despite the rainy weather and the chilly temperature of the room.

Dr. Cullen sat in the same seat as last time. I marveled at his ability to look completely at home in this sterile environment; he languished in his chair as if relaxed on his couch at home. His white coat only partially cloaked him with anonymous authority, his individuality subtly breaking through. Beneath his coat I caught a hint of his thin grey sweater, which hugged his chest in just the right way, and his black jeans that were stretched taut over his thigh muscles. I was surprised and slightly thrilled that his feet were decked out in a pair of black converse similar to mine.

His eyes were pointed downward to the papers on his desk. He wrote a few words on one sheet, shuffled a few papers and then slowly lifted his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes. With his head tilted downward he gave the impression that he was brooding and I squirmed under his piercing gaze which was directed pointedly at me.

I gulped in a deep breath of air. Though I desperately wanted to hold his stare, I broke under the scrutiny. When I felt the heat flood to my cheeks, I turned away.

He cleared his throat and I returned my eyes to him but he was scanning the room, the intensity in his expression softened.

"Let's begin tonight's session. Laurent, let's start with you. Doesn't your Dad get out on parole this week? How are you dealing with that?"

"Um, it's cool I guess," Laurent answered, pulling his legs under him and sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Can you elaborate? How are you preparing for his arrival?"

"Well, I helped my mom clean the house. And she poured all the liquor down the toilet. Waste of good alcohol if you ask me," he grinned and held up his hand for a high-five from James, who slapped it eagerly.

"Laurent, if you're not honest with us, who can you be honest with? I'm sure that you have some concerns about your dad coming back into your life. If I were you I might feel angry, or frustrated, or maybe even frightened of what it will be like to have him back in the house. If you share some of your true feelings with us, maybe we can help," Dr. Cullen said with compassion, redirecting the path of conversation with intelligence and sensitivity.

Whenever he spoke, his words seemed to hover in the air, full of meaning, and I tried to absorb every morsel of knowledge in them. I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from him as his sultry voice heated the atmosphere of the cold room. I became particularly fixated on the shadow of stubble stippled across his angular jaw, and the arc of the junction between his masculine neck and his square shoulders. I longed to run my nose across his neck and inhale his scent.

Laurent finally answered, snapping me out of my lustful daze.

"Well, I guess I'm a little worried. I mean, he's not a horrible dad or anything. He's just kind of lazy. At least when he was selling weed, he made some money. But when he's not selling, he just sits around, you know? It gets kind of old. He's like the man of the house, but he just sits on his ass watching tv all day and ordering my mom around. It's better when he's not home," he said, nodding and biting his lower lip.

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Laurent. It's alright for you to feel some resentment toward your Dad. I think sometimes we feel like we can't question our parents even when we know that they aren't doing the right thing. But it's really important that we recognize those things and break the cycle. You don't need to be like him, you have a choice. We all have choices. Does anyone else have anything to add?" he posed the question to all of us. I panicked internally, trying to think of something relevant to add but coming up blank.

"I want to say something. I just want to say that I agree with you Dr. Cullen. I _so_ don't want to end up like my mom when I'm older; she's like such a bitch and her life is a mess. And well, I'm nothing like her," Victoria practically snarled, disgusted with the thought. Dr. Cullen nodded but looked quickly away from Victoria, his eyes again scanning our faces.

"James, do you have something to add?" Dr. Cullen turned to James who was characteristically shifting around uncomfortably in his seat.

"Uh…I don't really get along with my dad, either. He works and everything, but he just drinks all night. He's hardly ever sober. He's not such a bad drunk though. He doesn't hit me or anything…just yells a lot. I mostly just ignore him. You should just ignore your dad too," he turned to look directly at Laurent.

"Yeah, I guess," Laurent said uncertainly.

"I'm not sure that ignoring our parents is the best way to deal with things. But I do think it's important that we realize that sometimes we can't change them. But their behavior doesn't have to define who we are. We can be whatever we want. You just have to believe in yourself. See who you want to be in your mind and become that person. We all have that power inside of us," he said, his eyes resting on mine for a brief blissful moment.

My mind was alight with this idea of becoming the person I wanted to be. I had never before realized that deep down I feared that I might end up just like Renee, that having her for a mother was kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. But Dr. Cullen's words really struck a nerve. I could be anything I wanted to be – it was up to me – no one else. I was pondering this idea when I realized that Dr. Cullen was speaking to me and I was jolted from my epiphany.

"Bella, is there anything about Laurent's problems that you can relate to?"

I struggled to think of something, to find something to say, and again I was struck with the realization that even when I didn't want to share my mind, Dr. Cullen could make me rip my chest open and share my heart with him.

"Well, I really _really_ don't want to end up like my mom. She _kind of_ tried, but never had a decent job. It's surprising that we never lived on the street. Somehow she just barely managed to support us, but it was never enough. I mean, I never got new clothes, or had all my school supplies, and sometimes we didn't eat very well. And then in the end when she got sick…well, it just got even worse," I looked up into his eyes and recognized the sympathy, the sadness in them and I swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill.

"Bella, you are not your mom. You don't have to be like her. It's perfectly okay to want more, to have a better life, to be a survivor. But no one is going to hand that to you. You have to make it happen for yourself. You have to believe that anything is possible in life, and that the universe will provide for you," he said with passion and I believed him with all my heart. I wanted to be better, to survive, and to be whole - not just for myself, but for him – for my beautiful Dr. Cullen.

"I was hoping that we could talk a little about your mom, Victoria, but I'm afraid that we're out of time. I have someone that I want to introduce you to," he said, glancing down at his watch. Just as he looked up, the door opened and in walked the most beautiful, elegant woman I had ever seen.

She had long, sultry blond hair that she had pulled back into a severe ponytail which only served to emphasize her large, almond-shaped, blue eyes. She had beautiful, fair skin and full lips that were painted with a burgundy lipstick. The tight, black sweater she wore was partially covered by a long, white coat that matched the one Dr. Cullen wore. Her knee-length black pencil skirt hugged her slim hips, and emphasized her long, lovely legs.

She stood before us confidently, but with a surprisingly kind look on her face and a knowing smile. As Dr. Cullen introduced her, I stared at her fashionable black stilettos, wondering how she balanced on them with such grace.

"Guys, this is Dr. Hale. She is a Marriage and Family Therapist and I'm hoping that she can help a little with our sessions. She is very skilled and I think will offer a new and different perspective. Let's welcome her, okay?"

I was entirely stunned by Dr. Hale. Her beauty, as well as her obvious confidence, was beyond intimidating. I couldn't help but feel dismayed and disheartened by her physical superiority. She was so clearly the ideal female compliment to Dr. Cullen. They were like two perfect people in a world of horrendously imperfect people and I felt pale, small, and plain in comparison. I felt betrayed by her presence. Why was she here? Was Dr. Cullen abandoning us?

"I'm going to leave for a while to let you get to know her," Dr. Cullen said as he stood. Before he exited the room, he placed his hand familiarly on her shoulder. It wasn't an intimate gesture, but I still seethed with jealousy. The fantasy I had built up in the farthest recesses of my mind began to crumble in her presence. There was no hope for me. I felt a tear drop from my eyes onto my trembling hand and when I reached up to wipe the streak from my face, Dr. Hale's eyes zoned in on me.

She sat down in Dr. Cullen's seat, never breaking her gaze. "You're Bella, Bella Swan, correct?" she asked. I nodded silently. "You seem rather upset. Can you tell me what you're feeling, Bella?" Her voice was surprisingly sweet and nurturing and so completely different from what I'd expected, that I felt my emotions slowly shift from the very dark place they were, to somewhere a tad brighter.

As I studied her warm and sympathetic expression, she didn't seem as much an enemy as my mind had instantly branded her to be. I imagined most people judged her by her appearance, which she could help no more than I could mine. When I looked deeply into her eyes, there was absolutely no malice, no judgment, only kindness. Inextricably, I trusted her and as I spoke, the words spilled from me effortlessly.

"I was just talking about my mom, um, before you came in the room and um, well I was upset because I well, I don't want to become like her," I explained, filling her in on our discussion. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and began twirling it around my finger.

"Well, yeah, we were all pretty much saying the same thing," Victoria piped up, not wanting to miss out on her portion of attention. "I mean we're here because our parents are shits, right? And there's like no way any of us want to repeat their stupid mistakes."

"Thank you for your insight, Victoria is it?" Dr. Hale asked and even though Victoria was annoying as hell, Dr. Hale just smiled at her patiently, not appearing in the least perturbed by her defiant attitude.

"Um, yeah, I'm Victoria."

"And you are James, and you are Laurent, correct?" she said gesturing at them.

"Yep," answered James who was fidgeting in his chair even more nervously than usual. Laurent nodded, tugging on his sweatshirt strings, tightening the hood, so that his face slightly disappeared, leaving just his nose and eyes peeking out.

"Well, before we continue further, I just wanted to let you know that Dr. Cullen is not abandoning your group. We will be working together. Like he said to you before, he thinks that I can help give you a different perspective and I agree. Don't let me mislead you though, Dr. Cullen is very good at his job and I'm sure that you all are already very attached to him and his style." I gulped and blushed. If only she knew the truth of her words.

"But I would love it if you would also give me a chance. I am asking for your trust and faith and I know that you probably all have reasons for not wanting to give your trust freely. But I promise to earn it. I am a therapist because I am dedicated to helping others and I firmly believe that we all can find happiness in our lives if we simply learn to look at things differently, to change our way of seeing the things that have hurt us."

Her words were like a warm embrace, a balm for the soul. She was just as articulate as Dr. Cullen. Her words were like poetry and I wanted desperately to believe what she said was true. I almost felt guilty because I liked her so much, as though I was betraying Dr. Cullen in a way. My jealously of her seemed to have entirely vanished, forcing me to acknowledge the fact that I felt much more comfortable in her presence than in Dr. Cullen's. She was equally breathtaking in her beauty, but I wasn't immobilized by her like I was by Dr. Cullen.

"Victoria, tell us a little about your mother. Is your father in the picture?" Dr. Hale prodded gently and Victoria lit up like a light bulb, eager to take center stage and talk about herself.

"Well, Dr. Hale," she began in an ingratiating tone, "My mother and father got divorced when I was only like three or something. I never see him, he lives in Baltimore. My mom pretty much raised me on her own."

"And has she done a good job – raising you on her own?"

"No fucking way," Victoria said with real conviction, and with no artifice. "Now that she's not drugged up all the time, she's way too into my life – always like pestering me, making all kinds of new rules. She's a bitch and we fight all the time."

"You mean you would rather have her still addicted to prescription medication and too drugged up to care about you, than finding an interest in your life?"

"Well…no, not exactly, but she needs to give me some space and like let me live my own life, you know?" Victoria responded.

"Have you told her that you need some space?"

"Well, kind of, but she just keeps pestering me," Victoria looked away toward the corner of the room as though, for the first time, she actually no longer coveted the spotlight.

"Maybe your mom needs to hear you tell her how proud you are of her for cleaning up her life, for being strong enough to fight her addiction. Sometimes we need to show respect before we can receive it from others," Dr. Hale said, her sage words reverberating through the room. As Victoria turned her eyes back to Dr. Hale, I could see that tears in them.

"Do you respect your mom, Victoria, for the changes she has made?" she asked after allowing a brief moment for her words to sink in.

"Yeah, I do. It's just hard to tell her I respect her when she's yelling at me all the time."

"I can understand that. It is hard to listen and respect others when they are yelling at us. Sometimes, when we're damaged, it's hard to relearn how to do normal things – like communicating properly. What I would suggest for you, for all of you, is that you can help your parents by example. When your parents are yelling at you, don't react. If you talk to them with respect, you earn that respect back. We need to be the mature ones sometimes, be the teachers – when our parents get lost."

Her words struck a nerve. I'd spent most of my life being too mature for my age. My mother was always more like a child, too lost and fragile to care for me. I thought of all the times I held her hair while she craned over the toilet, vomiting all the drugs and alcohol her body rejected, the times I scrambled for change to buy us food because she hadn't, all the times I pulled her out of bed in the morning and made her breakfast so that she could make it to work on time. I couldn't explain why I missed holding her at night while she cried herself to sleep. But I did.

Victoria seemed to have missed the meaning of Dr. Hale's words and interrupted, again thrusting herself into the center of the discussion, "Dr. Hale, she's not just a bitch, like yelling at me all the time, but she's also trying to ruin my life," she whined.

"What do you mean? How is she trying to ruin your life?" Dr. Hale asked.

"Oh god, she's like trying to embarrass me to death!" Victoria said, melodramatically flipping her curly hair over her shoulder.

"Just what is she doing to embarrass you?" Dr. Hale asked, and I was amazed at her patience. I had already given up listening to Victoria's whiney tale.

"Well, she's, well…" Victoria looked down at her hands, clearly uncomfortable. "She's decided that she's a lesbian and she's dating a _woman_," she said in a small, pinched voice. James snickered and Dr. Hale shot him a stern glance, putting her arm out to stop his reaction.

"Do you think she is doing this simply to embarrass you?"

"Well, no. But it's like she doesn't even care."

"Does this lifestyle choice of your mother's make her happy?"

"I don't know," Victoria answered flatly.

"Well, let's suppose that her choice to be a lesbian makes her happy, then how would you feel about it?"

"It still embarrasses me."

"Victoria, would you be willing to put up with a little embarrassment in order for your Mom to be happy?" Dr. Hale asked pointedly.

"Well, I, uh, I guess so," she stuttered, uncertainly.

"Good," Dr. Hale answered and was about to elaborate when the door to the room opened and Dr. Cullen appeared, sending my heart racing, my face instantly blushing. His eyes landed on mine and I tried to decipher the meaning of their intensity before he quickly pulled them away, turning them on Dr. Hale. He again placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled at her almost lovingly. She returned his smile and I sensed something intimate pass silently between them. They looked so right together that I felt the floor drop out from below me and I sunk deep into the depths of darkness. I was invisible and broken again and no one could see me or heal my wounds and no one would ever remember me, let alone miss me.

I only vaguely heard Dr. Cullen's sultry voice as he announced that it was time for our session to end. I stared overtly as he leaned suggestively toward Dr. Hale, asking her how the group therapy went. I couldn't focus on her answer as she stood up in her black stilettos and familiarly draped an elegant arm over Dr. Cullen's shoulder. She whispered something at him and he chuckled uninhibitedly. My stomach knotted as his light-hearted laughter carried across the room to me. I yearned to make him happy like that. I wondered what she said and had a dark and fleeting thought that they were laughing about me and how obvious and pathetic I was.

Everyone else was in the process of gathering their things and moving toward the door, so I took the cue and reached for my bag. Victoria bent over my chair, whispering, "Is Jacob Black picking you up?"

"Um, no…my dad," I muttered. She flipped her red hair over her shoulder and turned back to her chair to pick up her cavernous purse.

"Well, next time he drives you, introduce me," she said, and it wasn't a question, more a demand. She started digging in her purse and I stood, looking up at the big institutional clock on the wall.

I didn't notice that Laurent was approaching me until he was right next to me and I jumped to the side in surprise.

"Oh shit, sorry Bella," Laurent said sincerely and then smiled impishly at me as though trying to ease the tension.

"It's okay," I said, hoping that the smile I gave him back didn't reveal my distress. He pulled his hood back and looked down before speaking again.

"Well, James and I were wondering if you want to hang out on Saturday night at my house. My Mom is going to go pick up my Dad…um, you know, he's getting out on parole and so I'm having like a last day of freedom like get-together thing. Victoria's coming…and a few other people too," he stammered.

I surrendered to my initial instinct to avoid any social situations. I had never been to a party or a get-together and I didn't know what to expect. I was worried that I might embarrass myself somehow. I tried to think of an excuse not to go and jumped on the first thing that came to mind.

"Uh, well I don't know…I don't have a car and I…" I stammered back, my eyes flitting between the god and goddess talking at the front of the room and Laurent and James who were both looking at the floor while I stumbled through my words.

Laurent interrupted me, "You don't need a car."

"Well…why not?" I asked, confused.

"Uh, well Bella, you live about a block away from me," he shrugged. "Everyone knows where the Chief lives."

"Oh," I blurted, watching Victoria slip past Dr. Cullen and Dr. Hale, her eyes fixed as pointedly on their interchange as mine. "Well, I guess I can go. I'll have to ask my Dad."

"Cool," Laurent smiled and James nodded, sliding his hands into the tight pockets in the front of his jeans. He pulled out the torn corner from a piece of lined paper with an address and phone number scrawled on it, handing it to me.

"This is Laurent's address and phone number. People will probably start showing up around eight or so," James said, meeting my eyes for the first time.

"Okay," I said, putting the piece of paper in the front zipper pouch of my bag.

"We should exchange cell numbers," Laurent suggested and I fought back the blush of embarrassment.

"I don't…I don't have a cell phone," I stammered.

"Oh, well that's okay. We'll just see you around, I guess," Laurent said as he and James strutted from the room. I was about to follow them out when Jasper slid past them into the room. His eyes met mine before he realized that Dr. Cullen and Dr. Hale were in the room also. He smiled brightly, his gorgeous smile bolstering me with warmth. I couldn't avoid the blush that stained my cheeks – my habitual reaction to his magnetic physical energy.

"Bella, how'd it go today?" Jasper asked quietly as he moved in close and gave me a small, platonic hug.

I was about to answer when a warm, familiar voice made me forget everything.

"Jasper, you know Bella?" Dr. Cullen asked and though his voice was friendly, there was something odd about his look. He grasped Jasper's shoulder firmly, his eyes focused on my face, searing me to my core. I searched Jasper's face for comfort as he turned to Dr. Cullen and answered.

"Bella is Alice's new friend," he said plainly and I saw recognition settle in Dr. Cullen's features. He looked directly at me again with scrutiny, as if this information somehow changed his opinion of me. I grew more nervous and uncomfortable by the second, wondering all the while what Dr. Cullen was seeing, what he was thinking. I felt small and inconsequential. Was he realizing how plain I am, how ordinary?

"Um, I've gotta go. My Dad's probably waiting," I blurted, rushing out of the room. I stumbled down the hallway, only slowing as I neared the end. I was out of breath as I turned the corner to find Charlie leaning against the counter waiting. When he saw me he smiled.

"Hi Bella, how'd it go tonight?" he asked as he started walking toward the door.

"It was good," I blurted, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart and following along next to him.

I slipped into the passenger seat of the police cruiser and closed my eyes. But I couldn't hide from the images that swirled around my mind – my green-eyed doctor, black stilettos, long blond hair, Jasper, Alice, Jacob, Charlie. I opened my eyes and looked over at my father's profile. He sensed me staring and turned briefly to smile. He reached over and grasped my hand and squeezed it lightly.

"Bella, I know I haven't been there for you, but I'm real proud of who you've become," he said, emotion lacing his words.

"Thanks Dad," I replied quietly, feeling instantly awkward, wiping away the tears that had escaped. I'd been numb for so long that it was hard to control all the feelings that were now surfacing. Renee was gone but I wasn't alone. I had Charlie now; and even though I wasn't perfect, he still wanted me - he was proud of me. I couldn't remember anyone ever being proud of me before.

***

End Notes:

Thanks for all your support. Please leave me a quick review so that I know you guys are out there!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N:

I have to thank my wonderful, awesome, patient, brilliant beta, ms_ambrosia, for all her help.

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns the characters. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

Fresh Revelations

I stared out of the window, watching snippets of neighborhoods stream by, illuminated by the glow from the sporadic streetlights and I felt a deep longing for things to be better. I wanted a normal life, one free from the painful memories that haunted me. How long would it be before I could put my past behind me? I'd begun to lower my defenses, allowing streams of feelings and emotions to take root and to begin to bloom. I'd had a taste and I didn't want to be numb anymore. And I didn't want to be afraid or to be invisible any longer. I wanted to feel. I wanted to love and to be loved - if anyone would have me.

I closed my eyes again, listening to the rhythmic rumble of the tires as they travelled across the bumpy road and a vision of my green-eyed doctor filled my mind. I saw his long fingers as he wrapped them around Dr. Hale's shoulder and his unguarded laugh as he leaned in toward her. My heart constricted and my breath hitched at the vivid memory.

But there was something there – something inexplicable - in his piercing gaze when he saw me with Jasper. Like a fire ignited within, he seemed lit up inside; he was virtually smoldering. Dare I hope for him when the world seemed against me? I thought of his words to me earlier – that if you believe that things are possible, than the universe will provide for you. Maybe if I really believed that it was possible that Dr. Cullen could love me, than someday it would become reality.

As I plodded up the stairs after Charlie and into the house my mind was struggling with all my hopes and fears. I was so distracted that I'd reached the stairway to my room before I noticed that we were not alone.

"Bella!" someone yelled, surprising me so that I dropped my books on my foot.

"Ack!" I yelped, my toes throbbing. I turned just in time to see Jacob launching himself up from the couch and across the living room.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you. Charlie invited us," Jacob beamed as a very imposing looking man in a wheel chair rolled into the hallway behind him.

"So this is Bella," the man said in a deep, melodious voice, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked at me suspiciously.

"Bella, this is Billy Black…Jacob's father," Charlie offered.

"Um, nice to meet you," I said, holding out my hand to him.

"Uh huh," he replied, ignoring my hand. I felt the blush heat my cheeks and reached down quickly to retrieve my books, shielding my humiliation from view.

"I need to change," I mumbled, running up the stairs to my room. I closed the door, leaning against it, trying to calm my racing heart.

When I began to feel my body relax, I quickly changed into some sweat pants and a black t-shirt. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, running my fingers through my hair and loosening the tangles. I recognized the ordinary face that stared back at me, but it seemed slightly changed. I didn't have time to ponder the difference. I inhaled deeply, preparing myself to face yet another awkward social situation, and headed back downstairs to where Charlie, Jacob and his father waited for me.

I had to admit that I was glad to see Jacob. His presence somewhat brightened the dull sheen that had fallen over my life. But his father set me on edge. He looked at me like he could see right through me, right to the core of my essence. I stumbled down the stairs, holding tightly onto the handrail. I hesitated half way down, fearing what I would find waiting for me, and what it was about Billy Black that so unsettled me.

*

I concentrated on becoming very small, willing myself into an invisible shell, as I tiptoed down the hallway toward the kitchen. This method of hiding had been almost always effective in the past, allowing me to fade into the background of a world that threatened to consume me.

I'd always known that I was different, that I didn't matter as much as the other kids. I could only vaguely recollect a time when Renee woke me up in the mornings, tied my shoes for me, put my hair in pig tails, and made me toaster waffles before school. But that was long ago and seemed like another life. Long before her actual death, the light inside Renee was extinguished, the weight of the world wrenching the life out of her fragile soul. I watched as she spiraled into a deep depression and no matter how hard I tried to shoulder her pain; I couldn't keep her from drowning in it.

Our lives had deteriorated into a cold, empty imitation of life. We didn't live, we simply existed. We both became hard, numb. I had built an invisible wall around myself to protect me, but Renee had become too weak to defend herself from the world without drugs and alcohol. Heroin made her numb; it shielded her from the daggers of reality. Deep down I knew it was also killing her.

For so long, my sole purpose in life had become to take care of Renee – to make sure she got to work, that she ate, that the bills got paid, and to never get in her way. In the end, it didn't matter that it had been years since I'd had a toaster waffle or had someone care whether or not I'd made it to school or whether I'd gone the entire day without eating. Someone who is invisible, someone who doesn't matter, someone who sits back and allows their mother to wither, doesn't expect to be noticed, and doesn't deserve to be seen.

So it was unexpected that I was noticed as I silently slinked across the edge of the living room. I could feel the three sets of eyes turn on me as I tried to escape to the kitchen. Charlie's voice was so surprising that it was like I'd been jolted by lightening and I froze, waiting to be accosted.

"Bella!" Charlie shot, forcing me to stop and turn. "I ordered pizzas. I didn't know what you liked, so I ordered a plain cheese for you and the meat special for us. Is that okay?"

I was stunned, my mouth falling open. He ordered a pizza just for me? I couldn't remember the last time I'd had pizza. My stomach rumbled at the thought.

"Um, thanks," I muttered, looking down. I realized that I felt grateful and that astonished me. I was experiencing so many new emotions that I hardly felt equipped to deal with them, nor to understand what they meant.

I stepped into the living room to see all three men were focused intently on the baseball game on the television. Billy was tucked into Charlie's oversized and well-worn leather chair, while my dad and Jacob sat side by side on the couch. Jacob had his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He looked so relaxed that it both startled and warmed me to see him so comfortable with my father. I realized with some clarity, that these men were Charlie's family. I felt a pang of jealousy for their easy intimacy. I was the stranger here, the intruder.

I sauntered off to the kitchen. I was reaching in the cabinet to grab a glass when I felt a presence behind me.

"Hey, the men need refills," Jacob said, cranking open the refrigerator and grabbing two cans. "You gonna come watch?" he added, his eyebrows curving upward expectantly.

"No, I don't think so. I'm probably just going to head upstairs and do some homework."

"Ugh, don't remind me. I have a paper due tomorrow. I brought it with me, but really…like I'm gonna work on it here when the Mariners are kickin' butt," he said with sarcasm, making me chuckle.

"I'll come down when the pizza gets here, okay?"

"Sure," he nodded and went back to join our dads, beers in his hands.

I climbed the stairs, hoping my dad and Billy were too engrossed in the game to notice my disappearance. I pulled my folders out of my bag and spread them out on my bed as I had started to do each night. I tackled my homework with little enthusiasm, but since I didn't have much I was able to finish it quickly. I bent over to stack my books and folders near my school bag when I felt the familiar pull of hunger in my stomach. I was reaching for the knob when I was startled by a clunky rap on the door. I swung it open to Jacob's smiling face.

"Hey, the pizzas are here. Comin' down?"

"Yeah, I just finished my homework." My stomach rumbled loudly and Jacob laughed, swinging his long arm around my shoulder.

"Come on," he said, pulling me along with him, "we better feed that beast."

Dinner was interesting. There were very few times in my life that I'd eaten with more than one person. The easy banter between Jacob and his father was foreign to me, but entertaining. Most of the conversation revolved around Jacob and his ability to eat an entire slice of pizza in less than a minute. I was still nibbling on my first piece when Jacob started his fourth. His father, rather than telling him to slow down, kept egging him on, challenging him to go faster. Charlie rolled his eyes at them and I actually found myself relaxing into the meal, eating unconsciously, without the normal worries I usually harbored about eating – wondering if I was eating too much or maybe too little and being wasteful or questioning when I'd be able to eat again.

Billy sent an occasional glance in my direction. I didn't know how to interpret his stern looks. I almost felt as if he didn't approve of me, as though I really was encroaching on his territory. He seemed suspicious and I questioned what I had done to make him so. I jumped at the opportunity to clear the plates and boxes when everyone had finished and rushed to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

Jacob followed me, seemingly oblivious to any weirdness between his father and me. I doubted myself, thinking that maybe I was imagining things.

"Hey Bella, your dad asked me if I could pick you up from school again tomorrow. Is that cool?"

"Sure, thanks Jacob. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, no prob," he said happily, swinging his arm around me and tugging me toward him for a hug. I stiffened at the contact but ultimately relented, leaning into him a little. He held me a little too long for comfort and I pulled away. His hand lingered on my arm and I resisted the urge to rip it away. I stepped slowly back out of his hold, subtly easing myself free. He was strangely silent, staring intently me, which only increased my discomfort.

I was reminded of what Victoria had said about Jacob as I reluctantly returned his stare. I looked up into his wide, dark eyes, warmth emanating from them, and tried to see him as she did. I couldn't deny that he was physically attractive. When he embraced me, I'd felt the hard planes of his body. He clearly had the physique of an athlete. I could see him in his football uniform, craning his muscular arm back to throw the football down the long, green field. It was easy to understand how someone like Victoria would find Jacob to be good looking.

But to me, his most defining characteristic was his rich, warm brown skin that was so different from my pale shade. Except for one tiny scar near his bottom lip, it was flawless and smooth to the touch, radiating heat and tenderness. Tonight was the first night that I'd ever seen Jacob without his hair plaited down his back. Instead, his long, black hair fell in a flat sheet on either side of his face, framing his high cheekbones and full, pouty lips. It shimmered in the light, like strands of black silk. Everything about him seemed soft, tangible, and organic.

I looked into his dark gentle eyes to find that he was examining me as closely as I was him. The tension between us grew until it felt like it would snap like a taut rubberband. Finally, his eyes broke away and he smiled. I smiled back. It was impossible not to - his smile was genuine and infectious, revealing a mouthful of large, straight, brilliantly bone white teeth. He seemed instantly younger, brighter. I was glad he was my friend. But I could never imagine seeing him as anything more. He didn't make my heart feel like it was going to leap out of my chest. My blood didn't boil in my veins when he was near. Only one man could do that to me.

I resolved to introduce him to Victoria. Maybe he wouldn't find her as self-centered and as abrasive as I did. They would certainly look good together – his warm, earthy, dark look next to her cool, pale skin and brilliant red hair – would paint quite a picture. Yes, the more I thought of it, the more I liked the idea of them together.

*

The next day at school was entirely uneventful until right after lunch. It felt like time moved slower than usual as I trudged through my classes. I was anxious for the weekend, but if I was being honest with myself, I was looking forward it. The more I spent time with Alice, the more I wanted to be closer to her and know more about her. Though I was curious about her family, I was nervous about meeting them on Friday. I had so little experience interacting with people my own age, let alone parents.

At lunch I had asked her a few questions about her family so that I could prepare myself. But her somewhat cryptic answers only amplified my anxiety. I found out that she had two much older brothers who would both be at the dinner. She mentioned that one of her brothers was married, but didn't say much about the other. I worried that her brothers would be protective of her and would wonder why Alice had befriended me, that they wouldn't think me worthy of her friendship. At least I knew that Jasper was friendly and that, for some inexplicable reason, he seemed to approve of me. I was in no small way consoled by the fact that he was going to be there.

But Saturday night was a whole other issue. I may have felt nervous and insecure about interacting at a normal family dinner, but I was petrified of going to a party. I had no idea what to expect – who would be there…what should I wear…what would we be doing?

Charlie was surprised when I told him that I'd been invited to two different events over the weekend. But he seemed genuinely happy to let me go. He had no rules or reservations, simply saying, "Um, be careful…you know, don't stay out too late."

I was completely lost in my thoughts as I wandered out from the cafeteria: worrying about Alice's family, wondering about Charlie's expectations and planning what outfit I might wear to Laurent's house on Saturday night. I let my guard down, not paying attention to where I was going, when I found myself dangerously close to the group of girls I'd been avoiding since the first day of school.

Lauren and Jessica both planted wide, fake smiles on their faces as I got nearer to their perch by the entrance to the girl's bathroom. I was surprised to see Victoria standing with them, restlessly fidgeting, purposely not catching my gaze. Over the past week at school I had only caught sight of her fiery red hair from a distance, but we had somehow skirted any closer contact.

Her evasive behavior led me to believe that she'd been avoiding me at school. With a furtive glance, she turned and opened her locker, shifting the books around inside. I understood her body language perfectly; she didn't want me to expose our connection outside the bounds of school.

I decided the best strategy was to pretend that I hadn't seen the menacing trio of girls and continue on my path down the hallway. But I wasn't so lucky. Jessica stepped in my path, forcing me to stop. I raised my eyes to meet hers, the malice in her expression sucking the breath from my body. I stood frozen, waiting for whatever it was that she wanted to say.

Just as she was about to speak Lauren sauntered up, effectively nudging Jessica out of her way. "Was that Jacob Black we saw you with yesterday?" she asked in a syrupy voice that seemed well rehearsed.

"Um, yeah," I answered, looking around her and down the hallway for a means of escape.

"Well, how do _you _know _him?_" she asked incredulously, taking an intimidating step closer. Her blue metallic nails rapped against the folder in her arms as if threatening to claw the answer out of me.

"Leave her alone," a familiar voice chimed from behind Lauren. "She doesn't have to tell you shit," Victoria said unflinchingly, moving in to join the other cheerleaders.

Lauren threw a heated, dark look at Victoria before turning back to glare at me. "Well, I don't know what _he _sees in _you,_" she seethed and then stalked away, Jessica hustling along behind her.

Victoria didn't look back in my direction, but characteristically flipped her full head of curly hair over her shoulder and scurried quickly down the hall. I was still reeling from the peculiar confrontation when I heard the second bell ring, making me realize with consternation, that I was tardy to class.

*

Alice and I were standing out in front of school, hashing out the details of our Friday night plans. She was smoking a sweet smelling brown cigarette that reminded me of lilies. The scent lingered in the air around us and rather than recoiling from the smoke, I breathed it in deeply. Alice was balancing on the balls of her feet and my eyes fell to the dark purple boots she was wearing that came to just below her knee. Her pleated black and white striped skirt swished when she moved, revealing a hint of the fishnet stockings she wore underneath.

"Look Bella, it's no problem," she said. I had protested when she offered to drive to school the following day so that I could go to her house after school and then she would take me home again after dinner, but she kept insisting. "It makes sense. Plus, it was gives us more time to hang out," she exhaled heavily, blowing smoke to the side. "Jasper loves to drive his bike and I hardly ever get to drive my car when he's home and this gives me the opportunity. It's no trouble. Come on," she implored, pouting and batting her lashes at me.

"Okay," I caved. I didn't want to be a bother to her but I also didn't want to have to ask Charlie to pick me up in the cruiser. I wouldn't admit it to Charlie, but driving around in the cruiser was embarrassing and drew even more unwanted attention my direction. I couldn't avoid noticing the people craning their necks to get a glimpse of the criminal riding in the car. It felt like the cruiser's flashing lights were attached to my forehead. "Look at me. Look at me," they said. I felt guilty that I was relieved to have Jacob pick me up from school; he was slightly less conspicuous.

"I know that you could get your chauffeur to drive you over to my house," Alice said snidely, teasingly, "but really, I'm driving this time and that's that," she demanded, but I barely heard the last part of her statement because a huge clunker of a truck pulled into the parking lot, its sputtering roar carrying noisily across the wind. Alice squinted at the truck in irritation as it drew closer.

She sucked in the last drag off her cigarette and then lifted her boot, wiping the stub on the sole and tossing it in the cardboard trashcan by the stairwell. We were silent as the red truck clumsily navigated its way through the lot and slid uneasily into the spot at the bottom of the stairs. I narrowed my eyes to see the driver, but I somehow instinctively already knew who it was.

End Notes:

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N:

Thank You so much to my beta, ms_ambrosia who was faced with my utter comma fail in this chapter and my perpetual misspelling of Carlisle's name. She is infinitely patient and is just all around awesome!!!

I promised some of you that this one would be dinner at the Cullens – that is now next chapter. It will come up soon!

Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all the characters. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

Unexpected Gifts

"Who's driving that piece of junk?" Alice asked, craning her neck for a better view.

"Um, I think…" I was saying, when the door to the cab of the red beater cranked open and out slithered Jacob Black, his mouth twisted into a wide, toothy grin.

"Jacob?" I questioned as he scaled the stairs three steps at a time, bounding forward until directly in front of Alice and me. He had a keychain dangling from his fingers and held it out to me.

"What? What is this…what?" I stuttered like a fool.

"What it is…it's your truck, Bella. It's yours," he explained, his grin growing even wider.

"Mine?" I asked in a breathy whisper. "Mine?" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Looks like Charlie got you a truck, Bella," Alice said, obviously figuring things out faster than I was. "And he sent your chauffeur to deliver it," she said teasingly. I looked over at Jacob, panicked at how he would react to the title, to find him smiling at Alice good-naturedly.

"You bet, I'm the driver," he retorted merrily, nudging Alice lightly in the shoulder. It wasn't a big push, but she had been balancing on one foot and teetered precariously. Jacob reached out to right her just as Jasper drove up on his motorcycle. "Hey, you okay, pix?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, shrugging off his hand on her arm. "Thanks," she added.

"No prob," Jacob answered as Jasper climbed the last few stairs to where we were standing.

"Hey," Jasper addressed Jacob with a nod in his direction. He pulled Alice to his side where she fit under his arm perfectly, like they were meant to always be touching. I imagined that these last few days together were going to be hard for them.

Jasper looked down at the truck and then back at me with confusion. "What's going on? Whose truck is that?"

"It's Bella's," Jacob answered. "It's your birthday present. Wanna check it out?" he asked us all with enthusiasm, his eyebrows arched in anticipation.

"Bella, it's your birthday?" Alice squealed in astonishment.

"Um," I muttered, buying myself some time. I tried to remember the date, and when my mind caught up I realized that it was indeed my birthday. It wasn't unusual for me to forget. The last few years Renee never remembered and eventually my birthday became just one of a long string of disappointments in my life. In fact, I purposely tried to purge the date from my memory so that I could avoid the feeling of disappointment when it passed like any other day. I'd learned the hard way not to have any expectations.

On the day I turned thirteen, I bought a box of brownie mix and some birthday candles from the market near the apartment complex where we were living at the time. I made the brownies when I got home from school, cut them into little squares and placed them on a plate on the counter. I did my homework at the kitchen table as usual and then slipped into the shower until Renee got home.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I could hear muffled talking from the other room so I hurriedly got dressed. I followed the voices to the kitchen, and when I entered three languid sets of eyes fell on me. My mother was leaning against the counter, a beer bottle in one hand, a brownie in the other. Two unfamiliar men sat at the kitchen table, their faces greedy and leering. A plate sat in front of them scattered with brownie crumbs, one partially eaten brownie left on the plate like an afterthought. There was a brown smudge across the top of my math homework, the carelessness of the sloppy act a glaring reminder of how insignificant I was.

No one said a word to me. I looked in my mother's eyes for some sign of recognition, some explanation, but her eyes were vacant, empty pools of desolation that offered no comfort. She lifted her thin arm at me in a meaningless gesture, and I felt the hot tears begin to slide noiselessly down my face. A surge of anger burned inside of me and I lurched forward, grabbing the last half eaten brownie in my hand, nearly smashing it in my trembling fingers. I swiped the box of birthday candles off of the counter where I'd placed them and ran to the only room in the apartment with a lock – the bathroom.

I put the toilet lid down and sat on the toilet seat, placing the brownie on my knee. I reached for the candles, but only realized as I opened the box that I had no way to light the candles in the cold, lonely bathroom. I could barely see the brownie through the tears that cascaded freely down my face. I had to blow my nose several times on a wad of toilet paper until I managed to wedge the candle into the bit of chocolate. I had no idea if a wish would have any significance without blowing out the flame, but I stubbornly refused to abandon my original plan.

I sang the happy birthday song to myself in my head and when it was finished I shut my eyes and wished. I wished for a real birthday, with presents and a family who loved me; I wished for a life where I didn't feel so alone, so afraid and so unwanted. I wished for things I had no knowledge of, but I hoped with all my heart were real. I blew my breath across the unlit candle, waited for a moment and then tossed it into the trashcan. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and then ate the remaining crumbles of brownie, swallowing with it the last little bit of hope I'd been holding onto.

*

"I wish that I'd known that today was your birthday. I would have gotten you a gift," Alice said remorsefully.

"No really, Alice, I don't expect anything. Please," I pleaded.

"Well, I feel horrible for not knowing," she pouted.

"Hey, come on and see your present," Jacob gestured for us to follow as he hurled himself down to the parking lot. It was with some trepidation and disbelief that I approached the truck. Was this really mine? We all scurried down the stairs to examine my gift. As I followed behind Jacob, the reality of the situation hit me, and as I circled the rusted antique, I could barely contain my excitement. I had never imagined having my own car. I didn't know how I was ever going to repay Charlie or how to properly thank him for bringing hope back into my life.

Jacob held the driver's door open for me and I slid onto the cushioned bench seat. I hovered my feet over the petals and grabbed the tall gear shift in my hand, curling my fingers over the smooth, well-worn knob. Alice and Jasper peered at me through passenger door as I adjusted the mirrors and positioned the seat.

"You do know how to drive, right?" Jasper asked with concern.

"Yep," I answered, not bothering to elaborate. They didn't need to know that Renee had one of her ex-boyfriends teach me to drive when I was barely thirteen so that I could schlep them around when they were too drunk to function. We were living in the outskirts of San Diego at the time, near the Mexican border, when she met Scott. I suspected that he was a drug dealer but Renee and I never discussed it. She seemed to like that he took responsibility for teaching me how to drive and didn't care where we went. I had no one to complain to when he took me driving through the dark slum neighborhoods near the border, making me wait in the car while he stopped to buy drugs.

Those decaying streets were full of suspicious eyes, fear and hostility always lingering in the heavy air. When I waited in the car alone I held tightly to steering wheel as if it anchored me safely in place. I could remember feeling like adrenaline was boiling through my veins, my breaths so shallow I worried I wasn't getting enough oxygen. I slid low in my seat, practicing becoming invisible, shielding my face in my hair. Scott was always high when he lumbered back out to the car. I told him that I didn't like it there, but he just shrugged unsympathetically and told me to drive.

"So I suppose this means that you can drive yourself over to my house tomorrow night?" Alice asked.

"Well, I still need to get my license."

"We're on our way to get it right now," Jacob said.

"What? Really?" I stammered.

"Yeah, let's head over to the DMV. My car is over there. You can use my car for the test; it might be easier," he suggested.

"This is great, Bella. Call me later and let me know how it goes, okay?" Alice asked.

"I don't have your phone number," I replied.

"Give me your cell, I'll program it," she offered, holding out her hand.

"I don't have one. I'll call you from home," I said, already digging in my bag for a pen.

I found one and as I pulled it from my bag, Alice grabbed it, grasping my hand and turning it over so that my palm was facing upward. She wrote her number on the fleshy mound of my palm, writing her name in elegant script next to the numbers as if signing an autograph.

"There," she said, showing me my hand, and smiling at her work.

"Good luck Bella," she sang in her sweet voice over her shoulder. She pulled Jasper along with her. He turned and mouthed, "Good luck," to me and I mouthed back a "Thanks." They were getting onto Jasper's motorcycle when I turned back to Jacob excitedly.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I think so," I replied uncertainly and he chuckled at me.

I slid over to the passenger side of the truck, allowing Jacob to slide in the driver's position. He reset the seat and the mirrors before he turned the key in the ignition, causing the metal beast to roar in response.

"He we go," he said and headed to the DMV.

*

Jacob was right, his car was effortless to drive and maneuver and I easily passed both the driving and written portions of my test. I walked away from the DMV with my temporary license burning a hole in my purse. I kept fingering the paper as we walked out to the lot where the truck was parked to do some practice driving. I was a pretty good driver but I'd never really driven such a large vehicle. After a few circuits of town, driving up and down a few hills, parallel parking, and three-point turns Jacob was convinced that I was skilled enough to sever the leash and let me take the reigns.

To say that the drive home was liberating would be a gross understatement. I had never felt so much abandon, so much freedom. I had the windows cranked down, the cool air gusting across my skin. My arms puckered with goose pimples, but I relished the tingling feeling. The cold wind, the rumble of the cranking engine, the vibration of the huge tires as they rotated over the deep ruts in the road made me feel more awake, more vividly alive than ever before.

I was surprised to see the police cruiser in the driveway as I neared the house. I pulled my big truck into the empty space that Charlie had left for me. It felt surreal jumping down from the truck onto the lawn, grabbing my bag from the passenger seat, and making my way up to the house on my own. For once in my life I was actually beginning to feel like I belonged somewhere. The feeling frightened me – it was full of expectations for the future. I knew how easily hope could be crushed, like sand falling through your fingers.

I ran up the stairs, opened the door and was immediately hit with the familiar smell of burning sugar. I dropped my stuff by the door and skidded into the kitchen, my mouth dropping open at the sight before me. A big metallic balloon with a number sixteen in cartoon letters was tied by purple ribbon to one of the dining room chairs. It bobbed against the ceiling as if trying to break free.

Charlie turned to face me as I walked in, his brow furrowed sharply in frustration. His face was so comical, with a stripe of chocolate smudged across his cheek and his mustache sprinkled with flour, that I stifled the laugh that threatened to burst from my chest. He stepped to the side and I immediately determined the source of the smell. Two charred cakes sat on the stove top, looking more like giant hockey pucks than dessert.

"Um, Happy Birthday Bella," Charlie said sheepishly. "I meant to have this done before you got home, but I, uh, ran into some problems. Baking a cake is a little harder than I thought." He shrugged as I walked closer to see if I could somehow salvage his attempt at baking.

"I can't believe you did this. I mean, I haven't had a birthday cake in a long time," I said, feeling the emotion well in the back of my throat and wishing that I could say so much more.

"Ah, I just wish I did a better job. You deserve better," he said quietly, looking down at his hands as if embarrassed by his show of emotion.

"I might be able to fix this," I said, grabbing a butter knife and starting to loosen the cakes from the pans. Charlie stood back and watched me, a satisfied smile gracing his lips. He got a beer out of the refrigerator and leaned against the counter while I worked. It was actually quite easy to get the dense discs of cake out of the pans; they were so stiff that they didn't even leave a crumble when they popped out all in one quick motion. I used a serrated knife to cut off the burnt tops and sides and though they were slightly irregular in shape, the remaining circles of cake didn't look too bad.

I was aware of Charlie's eyes on me as I navigated through the kitchen. I was surprised that I was beginning to feel so comfortable in his presence, as though we'd always been a part of one another's lives. Sometimes I felt an inextricable closeness to him, as though our shared DNA bound us deeper than the forces that had kept us apart for so many years.

I moved around the kitchen with ease, already having mapped in my mind where every spoon, every spatula, and every bowl belonged.

"I think we can save it," I announced to him and he grumbled, but when he raised his eyes to mine I could see that he was pleased. As I frosted the bottom layer, Charlie silently slipped away. I was just finishing up slathering the last gob of chocolate frosting on the top of the cake when he returned.

"Ta-da!" I said, holding my hands out to present the result of my efforts. The cake was crooked, but at least it looked edible.

"Amazing!" Charlie said with genuine pride in my accomplishment.

"Thanks," I replied, blushing.

"Um, Bella, I wasn't sure what to get you. I mean I talked to several people about what you might want and – "

"The truck is incredible!" I said, cutting him off. "Thank you so much! You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble. I don't deserve –"

"Yes, Bella, you do deserve it!" he said with a fervor that momentarily frightened me. "I can't always be there to pick you up after school and even though Jacob volunteered to drive you home everyday, you shouldn't be dependent on him," he asserted and I blanched at his authoritative tone.

"It's too much," I muttered under my breath.

"No, it's not too much. In fact, I was talking with Dr. Cullen –"

"Dr. Cullen?" I interrupted again, astonished by the mention of the man who was always haunting my subconscious.

"Yes, Bella let me finish," Charlie demanded, showing his irritation with my constant interruptions.

"Okay," I promised.

"I wasn't sure who to talk to and since Dr. Cullen has a daughter, I thought that he could give me some advice on what to get a sixteen year old girl."

"Dr. Cullen has a daughter?" I asked, unable to hide the anguish in my voice. _He has a daughter? Is he married? How can it be possible? _I was so full of incredulous disbelief, questions tangling their way through the web of my mind, that I stopped listening.

"Yes, of course he does," Charlie said and his words somehow penetrated the painful fog encircling me.

"Is he…is he married?" I managed to squeak out, all the while masking the hurt strangling my heart.

"Bella, he's married and has three children. Why are you so interested?"

"Three?" I whispered, my hand instinctively draping over my heart as if I could hide my shameful feelings. "I just didn't know. He seems too young," I mumbled incoherently, more to myself than to my father who was looking at me with so much confusion that I couldn't help but return his troubled gaze.

"Young? Well, I don't know about that. I think he's a little older than me. Edward, his son, is nearly twenty-five now so that makes him…." As he was trying to work out the math in his head I finally realized with immense relief that we were having a conversation about two entirely different people.

My shallow breaths were slowing and became a little easier as I collected the broken pieces of my heart and glued them back together. In my mind, I began to accept the reality that Charlie had been speaking about Edward's father, who was also a doctor, and I felt the warmth return to my body.

"Well, I don't know exactly how old he is," Charlie said bluntly, startling me out of my stupor. "My point is, I talked to him about what you should have…about presents…about well..." He stammered in frustration, and thrust a small package in my hand. It was wrapped in newspaper but had a red bow taped crookedly to the top that had the words "Merry Christmas" repeated along its length in festive lettering.

"You don't have to get me anything else. The truck…" I started.

"Bella, please, there are things you need. I have years to make up for. Please," he implored sincerely, pointing to the present in my hand. "Sit down."

I sat down at the kitchen table and Charlie sat down in the chair across from me. He moved to the edge of his seat in anticipation. I pulled the bow off first and placed it on the table. Next, I gingerly tore the corner of the paper and paused, peeking at him. I could sense his excitement and I was afraid to disappoint him. I tried to prepare myself to feign happiness no matter what the gift. I wouldn't disappoint him after he'd been so kind to me. He'd already given me more new things than I'd probably had in the entire previous decade of my life.

"Bella, don't you know how to open a present? You just rip the paper off!" he explained, his impatience peppering his gestures.

"All right," I replied, tearing the paper in half, revealing a small rectangular object floating in rigid, plastic packaging.

"Is this…is this…a cell phone!?!" I asked excitedly, trying desperately to tear through the impenetrable plastic.

"Yes, Carlisle, I mean, Dr. Cullen, said that all teenagers have these now," he explained, chuckling at my lame attempt to free the phone from its packaging. He pulled it from my hands and cut it open with a utility knife that he had in his back pocket. He wrenched open the packaging and handed me the little flip phone. "I didn't want you to be left out, Bella. You should have what the other kids have," he said in a soft and uncharacteristically uncertain voice.

I held the small phone in my hand, flipped it open and pressed some of the numbers randomly. It wasn't charged but I still felt like I could feel its power. The phone, the car – they had so much more meaning to me than they would to anyone else. I never thought or expected that I would have such things. I had been beaten down by circumstance, living a life of darkness with no future, but now I was beginning to believe that things were possible for me that I had never dreamed of before. I held the silver rectangle tightly in my hand and understood with all that was inside of me that my life was changed, that I had changed and that I would never be so broken again.

"Do you like it?" Charlie asked after silently watching me examine it thoroughly and clench it in my hungry fingers.

"I…I don't really know how to thank you for everything. I know you didn't have to do it – any of it. But thank you. Thank you so much," I said, so unused to the intimacy that I found myself unable to raise my gaze to his. I fixed my eyes on the table but I felt his chair shift. He took two long steps and stood next to my chair. I lifted my eyes, but before I could see his expression, he pulled me into his arms. His arms were stiff but sure. In them, I felt a sense of security and completeness that I'd never before experienced, as if he would keep the whole world away and protect me from even myself. I wished that I'd always had his arms to hold me this way. I was only afraid that once he let go I'd never get them back or that I'd want them so much that I'd never be able to stand on my own again.

"Bella. I'm so glad to have you back…to have a second chance," he whispered into my hair with a raw need that reflected my own. I closed my eyes and felt his strength and tried not to worry about tomorrow or the next day but to savor this moment, to revel in what I was feeling – a blossoming love for this man – and to have faith that what I was sensing, emanating from his warm embrace, was his enduring love for me.

Surprisingly, when he released me I didn't fall apart. I somehow trusted that it wouldn't be our last hug, that it wouldn't be the last time he showed me that he loved me. That kind of trust made me feel vulnerable, but I believed anyway.

*

After we hooked up my cell phone to its charger so that the batteries could charge over night, my father took me out to a birthday dinner. When we walked into the packed diner, all eyes swerved in our direction. My instinct was to fold inward, to disappear, but I held my ground. I drew courage from Charlie, who was returning greetings from several of the restaurant's patrons who'd jumped up, abandoning their food to shake his hand and say hello. They were all openly curious about me and greedily took in my appearance, mumbling kind words. I tried to paste a friendly smile on my face, but it wouldn't stick.

Luckily Charlie grew impatient with their chatter and well wishes and waved off the last few persistent men, one who was saying something about knowing my mom and remembering her pregnant. The recollection stung and as we folded ourselves into a booth, upholstered in shiny, red, glitter-speckled vinyl, I felt a new wave of unwelcome emotion surge outward from my chest and into my throat.

I opened the oversized laminated menu and remembered the last time Renee took me out to eat. We had gone to a truck stop on the outskirts of Phoenix when we first arrived in the area. With its greasy seats and ketchup smeared counters, it was named appropriately, _Dirty Dan's. _It was the kind of place that was half mini-mart, half restaurant, with bathrooms that had coin-operated showers and washers and dryers for truckers to bathe and do their laundry.

I could remember sitting alone in the gritty booth, waiting for Renee to return from loading some of our laundry into one the truck stop's coin-operated washing machines near the bathroom. I watched as she scurried past the front of the restaurant, and across the length of mini-mart, a wad of our dirty travelling clothes shoved haphazardly in her arms – my socks and jeans poking out shamelessly. I cringed in helpless horror as I saw a pair of my underwear fall from the pile in her hands and drop in the middle of the pathway. She scooped them up quickly, but not before I felt the humiliation of being exposed by her in such a careless and brazen way.

When she dropped down into the booth across from me, she didn't mention the laundry or my underwear or the embarrassment that she'd caused me. She simply picked up her menu and ignored my hot stare. She dumped her change on the table, counting it unashamedly, to determine how much we could afford to eat. Our laundry, she informed me, was being done again without any detergent and I remember wondering what the point was. Our clothes might appear a bit cleaner than they were previously, but they wouldn't smell any better. Before I'd moved to Forks, I'd actually longed for the smell of fresh laundry, the floral, soapy fragrance of truly clean clothes.

As I was reflecting back to the moment at _Dirty Dan's, _Charlie kept pointing out things he liked on the menu, and offering suggestions. But all I could think about was Renee and her insistence that I order from the kid's menu, despite the fact that I was no longer young enough to do so. I didn't complain when the grilled cheese sandwich I ordered was only a meager half-sandwich with maybe a dozen stringy french fries scattered carelessly around it to fill the vacant expanse of the plate. I never expected more than what Renee could give me.

It was with some reservations that I finally gave in to Charlie, who insisted that I have a steak on my birthday. I looked at the glossy photo of the meal on the menu – a large hunk of dark red meat with a steaming baked potato cradled next to it, slathered in butter and a cholesterol-enhancing dollop of sour cream. I imagined that Renee might be happy to see me now. And yet, I questioned why she'd never allowed me to have this experience with my father when she was still alive. Why did she force me to live my life that way? My thoughts were so confusing.

I was ashamed that I could barely eat half of my birthday meal, but Charlie didn't seem to mind. We had the server box up the remainder of my dinner to take home. On the drive home in the cruiser I was already planning the steak sandwiches that I could make the next night for dinner so that I could put all my leftovers to good use.

As soon as we got home, Charlie made me sit on the couch in the living room and asked me to close my eyes. I felt extremely uncomfortable, but I did as he asked. I could hear him a few minutes later walking into the room, his raspy voice singing the birthday song. He was out of tune and didn't quite hit the notes, but it didn't matter.

"Open your eyes, Bella," he said and when I did I found that he was in front of me with the cake, sixteen candles ablaze on the top, burning brightly just for me.

"Make a wish," he said, smiling, waiting, holding the cake suspended in front of me. I paused, knowing what I was supposed to do, but amazed that I was finally getting to go through this ritual, that I wasn't alone, and that I was celebrating my life instead of regretting it.

I looked down at the glowing cake, the wax beginning to drip onto the chocolate frosting, and imagined that my mind would be full of wishes at this moment - that I would have so many dreams that I didn't know how I could possibly name them all. But instead, before I blew out the burning candles, I thought of only one thing – Charlie. I didn't wish for my life to be better or for things to change, but I wished that they could always be just like this – that there would always be someone who cared about me, that I would never be alone, and that I would always know love when it came knocking on my door.

I made my wish, blew out the candles, and then we ate the slightly charred tasting cake. It was the best birthday I'd ever had.

End Notes:

Thank you so much for reading. I am especially fond of this chapter. What did you think of Bella's birthday?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N:

I actually think my comma usage is getting worse as I write more. I have the comma disease. Thankfully, my beta, ms_ambrosia is a comma genius. She is my cure! Thank you so much for your support of this story, ms_ambrosia, and for never getting pissy about my total comma fail. I'm seriously addicted to you!!!

Disclaimer: SM owns. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

* * *

Why is it when you're nervous about something time moves like a speeding train toward it? I was so worried about going to Alice's house for dinner that the day passed by in a flash. I was tense all day which made me even more awkward than I was normally, my elbows bumping on door jambs, and my feet stumbling over air.

There were only two highlights to my day. First was the actual drive to school. Though it was freezing outside and the heater didn't kick in until I nearly pulled into the parking lot, the drive was still a liberating and exhilarating experience for me. I was so overcome by giddiness that I even ignored the gawking and curious stares I got as I climbed down from the red beast. For the first time in my life I almost didn't care what everyone else was thinking. But the farther away I got from my truck and the closer I got to the school, the smaller and less protected I felt. By the time I neared my first class, I almost felt invisible.

That was of course until I saw Alice in the hallway, and even from across the stretch of the hall, her welcoming smile warmed me and made me feel almost human again. Her honest enthusiasm for me to meet her family and visit her house not only flattered me, but filled me with a confidence that kept me motivated through the remainder of the school day.

The second highlight of my Friday at school was undoubtedly Ms. Clearwater's class, where she purposely pulled me aside to ask me about how my project was doing. My agitated state, combined with my over-eagerness to please her made me sloppy and ungraceful. I felt like I couldn't be organized or prepared enough to face the silent questions in her intelligent eyes - her pointed scrutiny - with any semblance of dignity. Instead, in my careless haste to show her my notes, I stumbled over my backpack and jumped several feet across the room, dropping my books and scattering papers every which way.

I froze, the mortification seizing my body, paralyzing it. My instinct was to flee from the room, to hide from the leering faces of my classmates, who were relishing the short break in the monotony of their school day. But unlike most teachers, who couldn't or simply wouldn't spare the energy to save one student from a moment of humiliation, she got down on her hands and knees with me and helped me collect every last one of my things.

After I'd tidied my papers into a neat stack, Ms. Clearwater called me to her desk in the corner of the room. The bouquet of peacock feathers sitting in a tall vase behind her caught my gaze, their markings like gold-ringed eyes, daring me to approach. Ms. Clearwater was writing on a student's paper, her hand confidently slashing and circling words with an unforgiving red pencil. With a cursory glance at me she reached out and without pause, slipped the stack of papers from my hand.

Her sharp eyes scanned my hasty pen scratches – her suggestions paraphrased at the top, with bulleted facts pulled from the internet below them, and my own ideas scribbled all over the margins. After a few nerve-wracking minutes, her finger darted out, landing on the paper over a name I'd printed clearly by my notes on the Quileute Reservation: Jacob Black.

"What is this?" she asked, her finger tapping directly over his name.

"I um, asked Jacob Black to take me to the reservation. I thought he might be able to help," I replied uncertainly.

"That's…that's wonderful, Bella!" she said with sincerity, her incredulous expression revealing her surprise. "I'm so happy that you're showing such initiative," she added, her hand resting on my shoulder. "I'm looking forward to hearing about your visit. I think this is going to be a great article." She squeezed her lips together in a tight smile and nodded at me before turning her attention to a girl sitting in the back of the class with her hand raised high above her head.

I floated back to my seat, basking in the warm feeling that had settled in my chest. I hardly recognized the sensation, rarely having felt such pride in any accomplishment. I plopped down onto the hard plastic and wondered if Charlie might read my article when I finished writing it, and if I would even be courageous enough to share it with him. I shook the notion from my mind as a lost cause. Renee was never interested in any of my school projects, why would Charlie be any different?

And yet, I clung to a small shred of faith that Charlie _was_ different. Even in the short amount of time I'd been with him, he'd proven that he cared more than Renee was ever capable.

At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that Ms. Clearwater seemed genuinely pleased that I had already gotten started with my research, and in particular, that I had contacted Jacob. I could tell by her reaction to my notes that she was happy with my work so far and this only made me want to please her more. All through the rest of the class, she kept catching my eye and smiling encouragingly. I was embarrassed at how such a small show of pride affected me so intensely. I felt greedy for her praise, and I knew that like a drug, I would soon become addicted to it.

Ms. Clearwater's enthusiasm for my subject carried me through the rest of the day, my mind literally teeming with ideas for my article and fantasizing about the reservation. I wove a romantic ideal of the Quileute and their connection with the wolves in the area, even imagining that they ran with them through the forests, and hunted with them. In my mind, I saw the wolf as the spirit guide of the tribe, the animal totem of the people.

I was anxious to learn about the tribe firsthand as my impression of Native Americans was almost entirely based on a warped combination of popular culture and racial stereotypes. An image kept returning to me of Jacob, his long body nearly naked, dancing around a massive fire, a headdress made from a wolf's carcass draped over his head. His honeyed skin would appear sleek and luminous in the glow of the fire as the flames licked at the sky. I could almost hear the pounding of animal skin drums echoing through the darkness as a circle of linked, swaying bodies chanted in an unfamiliar, mysterious language.

*

I tried to distract myself on the ride over to Alice's house by thinking of my trip to the reservation on Sunday. For some reason, of all the unknowns in my life, going to the reservation was the least of my worries. I wasn't really nervous about it all – just the thought of Jacob going with me set me at ease.

I kept my brain thinking of wolves, and all the other random Native American things that I knew about - moccasins, totem poles, teepees, and tomahawks - but I was largely unsuccessful at keeping my mind from wandering back to where my car was headed. Besides, I found I needed all my concentration to follow Jasper's vintage motorcycle through the windy roads that led out of town.

My eyes were fixed on Alice's back as she clung tightly to Jasper. They were both wearing black, making it seem that they were one hulking form, melded to the machinery that wove back and forth effortlessly across the road in a mesmerizing dance before me. At lunchtime Alice had written the directions to her house on sheet of a lined paper from her notebook. The paper was sitting on the seat next to me, to use in case we were separated, but I was determined not to lose them. My truck, as it sputtered and whined, may have had different plans.

I was beginning to think we were driving all the way to Canada when Jasper turned down a side road that had a small, indistinct arrow-shaped sign with the words "Cullen" carved in an architectural script. I was surprised how far out of town we'd driven; it felt very secluded in this part of the wilderness with no houses visible through the dense shield of the forest.

I followed the path of the motorcycle down the narrow road, the trees casting long, ominous shadows, shrouding us in darkness. I switched on my headlights, knowing that we were getting closer, and my heart thrummed wildly in my chest like the beating of hummingbird wings. Doubts began to creep back into my mind, clawing at my heart until I felt an uncomfortable tightness in my chest.

As Jasper slowed and we curved around a sharp bend, my jaw dropped open. I had to lean forward in my seat to get a complete view of the huge, striking, multi-leveled modern house that was wrapped around the knoll behind it as though it burst forth from the rock itself. It was a medley of dark woods, volcanic rock, glass and violent, jutting angles that was somehow wildly conspicuous while melding seamlessly in the natural landscape.

I managed to close my mouth as I cranked my door open and slid from the seat to the driveway. Jasper was all of a sudden next to me, his hand on my elbow, leading me toward the entrance behind Alice. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being led to a kind of sacred place – like hallowed ground, a temple, or a church – somewhere that would affect my life irrevocably.

To complete the illusion that we were approaching a kind of sacred area, there was a long narrow staircase made of weathered planks of irregular shaped boards. Tall, red ceramic planters were placed every few steps at both sides of the stairs. Each planter was filled with long silver grasses that swayed like ghostly dancers in the soft wind. My feet scaled the steps as if on a mission of their own, while my eyes studied the sharp angles and reflective surfaces of the wide windows. When we reached the top, Alice ceremoniously opened the black enamel door that led to the inside of the house, turned back to face me, and yanked me over the threshold.

My first impression was the brightness, the glowing. The sunlight of the early evening burst through the windows, illuminating the house so that it felt open, light and warm. Alice laced her fingers with mine and led me out of the entryway into the main area of the house that was one large room, but separated into several different sections. There was a huge sunken living area delineated with a large, cream-colored, shag area rug. It was flanked by three exceptionally long black leather couches that were covered in dozens of random, colorful pillows and throws. Along the back wall there were banks of floor to ceiling shelves filled with hundreds of books mixed in with photographs and candles, statues, rocks, shells, even a few pinecones.

Motivated by curiosity, my feet automatically drew me forward to examine the photographs more closely, but Alice tugged on my arm. She directed me to the other end of the room, where we were dwarfed by a massive fireplace, framed by a heavy mantle of roughly cut, unpolished marble. Alice pointed to the wall above the mantle where a large, beautiful painting was prominently displayed. It was a landscape that was remarkably similar to the view out of the large plate glass window at the front end of the room. The painting was so detailed and precise that when I turned my head to look out of the huge wall of windows to the outside, I was certain of the inspiration for the painting – the lush green trees that seemed to stretch on forever across the wide expanse of the Olympic National Forest.

"Oh Alice, your home is incredible! It's like a museum in here. And that painting is absolutely beautiful!" I said, my fear overshadowed by a sense of awe.

"You like it?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.

"It's so beautiful," I replied breathily, spinning, taking on the total effect of the room.

My eyes stopped on the long concrete bar that separated the kitchen from the living space, amber colored spotlight fixtures dangling from the ceiling, making the cold, grey surface appear oddly warm.

"It's one of my mom's. A lot of the paintings in the house are hers."

"Wow, I can't even imagine collecting art. That's so cool," I muttered, still taking everything in, unable to stop and focus my eyes on any one object.

"Well yeah, she collects art, but what I meant was…that she painted it. She's an artist; she's um, kind of well-known," Alice said bashfully, seemingly proud and embarrassed all at once.

My mind again slipped from my control, latching onto a stray memory of my mother, who at some point in the distant past, bought a paint-by-numbers kit. I remember how, in a rare burst of creative energy, Renee filled in the outlined areas with paints in various shades of blue. She always meant to finish the painting of dolphins jumping in the ocean, carting the cardboard canvas around from one house to another, but she never did. After a while the unfinished painting, with its blank numbered areas, like so many of our possessions, simply disappeared. I couldn't remember when I'd last seen it.

"Wow, that's so cool," I repeated, so impressed and intimidated that I was unable to say anything more. Alice giggled and Jasper cleared his throat. I tried to meet her smile, but couldn't. Everything about Alice's house made me feel small, my experience in life so narrow and so lacking.

"I know that it's kind of intimidating here – but don't be, Bella. The Cullens are really nice," he reassured, nodding. "Hey Alice, I know you want to show Bella your room. Why don't you guys head down there? I'm just gonna grab a beer first. You want anything?" he asked us both.

"Jasper, don't let my dad catch you with the beer. You know he doesn't like that," Alice admonished, her hands on her hips.

"Baby, when I'm in Canada no one even thinks twice about it."

"Jasper, this isn't Canada," Alice retorted, sadness settling over her features and I realized that the reality that Jasper was soon leaving was hanging over them, threatening their happiness. I instantly felt guilty for forgetting that he was going, for allowing myself to get swept away in the moment.

"I know, baby," he replied, stepping closer to her and enfolding her small frame in his muscled, striking, inked arms. I felt the temperature rise as the blood surged through my body, flushing my neck and cheeks with its blush. I looked away, embarrassed to be watching them with such obvious envy. I focused my eyes on the oversized ceramic vase on the side table, filled with vibrant yellow daffodils. Their yolky insides were opened toward the windows, trying to suck energy from the last rays of the day's fading sunlight.

A small part of me wished that I wasn't here where I didn't belong. Alice and Jasper needed some private time together and I was intruding. I ventured a quick glance in their direction to see Jasper gazing into Alice's eyes with so much love that I felt a pang of hurt deep inside for her. He put his hands on either side of her face and gently wiped her tears with his thumbs.

"Come on babe, enough of that," he said, pecking her lightly on the lips, "go show Bella your room." He tapped her on the butt and she giggled, her demeanor changed in an instant.

"Bella, god, I'm sorry, let's go," Alice said, gesturing for me to follow. She led me back toward the entryway where there was a staircase that led down to a lower floor that I hadn't noticed when we first entered the house. I followed her carefully down, not wanting to stumble. We came to a glassed in landing that had two doors off to one side while straight ahead the stairway continued downward.

"Our house is the reverse of most. There are two master bedroom suites downstairs and my bedroom is here," she pointed to the closest door. "There's a guest bedroom farther down, and that room is my brother's room. Come on, let's peek," she suggested, already walking toward the open door. I reached the doorway, but felt uneasy stepping inside.

"My brother is so weird," she claimed, gesturing at his stuff. It didn't feel right looking at someone else's things but I couldn't stop myself. The room was a random mixture of modern pieces that matched the rest of the house and an odd assortment of antique looking furniture. Set at an angle in the corner of the room was a huge mahogany sleigh bed with burgundy velvet bedding that looked rich and lush and totally inviting. Black and white photographs in fat black frames covered the walls, both landscapes and a few extreme close ups of various body parts.

An elegant, bow-legged table painted a pale yellow color served as a desk in the room; a laptop computer, a stack of CDs, and scattered papers were littered across the top. A black molded plastic chair sat at the desk, its sleek, curved shiny surface an anomaly amidst all the softer textures. There were heavy, umber velvet draperies on the huge windows that blocked out the evening's soft light as well as the breathtaking view. Along the nearest wall was a sophisticated looking sound system which included a turntable and some recording equipment. There were several boxes stacked in the corner which were crammed full of books. A few books were carelessly placed on top of an open box and I recognized their titles – _The Idiot_ by Dostoyevsky, and a book of poems by Pablo Neruda.

The more I noticed, the more intrigued I became. I could have looked around much longer, scrutinizing the possessions of Alice's brother, piecing together what kind of man he was, but she grabbed my hand and gently pulled me down the hall toward her room.

"Oh, I know, he's fascinating," she said with sarcasm, "but I want to show you the best room in the house - my room." Alice opened her door, urging me inside after her. The lavender curtains were sheer, the fading evening light seeping through, bathing the room in soft, muted hues. Alice immediately dropped my hand, flicked the light switch and jumped forward, launching herself to the bed on her knees.

"Whatcha think?" she asked, raising her eyebrows up to her hairline expectantly.

"Alice, uh, wow, it's so…it's so…," I didn't really have the words to adequately describe just what I thought of her room or how her room made me feel. My mouth came unhinged as I opened my eyes wide, enchanted by the overwhelming visual stimulation.

Alice had the most amazing room I'd ever seen. All the fabrics, the pictures, the candles, and the clusters of random art objects created a dizzying patchwork of colors and textures that was almost fantastical. I felt like I'd walked onto the set of an animated film or walked through the looking glass to a world of whimsy.

Part of her room seemed plucked from the pages of the Arabian Knights. Her square bed was framed with silken fabrics in jewel tones, throw pillows of every shape, size and color lining the edges. Diaphanous, silky fabrics hung across the ceiling and dangled down the sides of the bed to create a curtain of privacy. The wall behind the bed was dotted with dozens of mirrors – round ones, square ones, and oval ones – some with frames, some hung by ribbons; others were beveled around the edges. The overall effect was like being in a genie's bottle.

Candles seemed to sit on every available surface of the room, along with little figurines. On her beside table, next to a lamp made of stamped blue glass, there was a small Buddha, an elephant statue, and a bird's nest with tiny little blue speckled eggs nestled inside. Everywhere I looked there was something of interest to capture my attention, to draw me in. Each item seemed to be a part of Alice, as though the objects were the glue that held together the bits and pieces of her life. As I shifted on my feet, circling the room, I couldn't imagine how one person could collect all these things, or how my tiny friend could contain them all.

I glanced at Alice who was now perched back in her harem-style bed, her arms behind her head. She was clearly relaxed and at home in the space, but there was uncertainty in her eyes.

"Now you know how crazy I am," she said with finality, the hint of a question lingering in her statement.

"No, Alice. You aren't crazy. This is just so amazing," I said with sincerity, but feeling smaller and smaller.

Just then Jasper tucked his head through the doorway and took in my awed expression.

"Pretty cool room, isn't it?" he asked me as though my opinion wasn't obviously written on my face.

"Yeah," I answered, inadequately.

"What do you think of my baby's artwork, pretty awesome isn't she?"

"What artwork?"

"Behind the desk – that entire wall – all hers," he said, gesturing broadly with his arm as though announcing a magic act.

I sauntered over to the wall behind the small desk. I hadn't even looked at this corner of the room yet. Along every square inch of the wall were a series of black panels hanging from narrow chains. Each one had a collage of different art pieces attached to them. Most of them had very detailed pen and ink drawings that combined realistic anatomical renderings with fanciful and intricate squiggles and curlicues. Some of the pieces had letters stenciled around them or small words clipped from the newspaper interspersed throughout. Many of the panels had feathers on them or shells and some had nails, coins, scraps of fabric and splashes of paint. Each one was unique, but they all belonged together.

I could have pored over the specific details of each panel for hours; each one was so thoughtfully constructed, as if there was a profound meaning in every line, curve and color. Before I was ready to turn away, I heard Jasper's voice as though from a great distance and I was drawn back to reality.

"Your brother's home, Alice," Jasper said. My heart rate instantly sped up, racing to some unknown finish line. My legs turned to jelly and I stumbled clumsily across the room, collapsing on the edge of Alice's bed. I heard footsteps in the hallway and felt my heart rattle in my chest like a rubber ball in a tin can.

"You okay, Bella?" Alice asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just felt like I had to sit down for a second," I mumbled, trying to calm my fractured nerves while wringing my trembling hands in my lap.

My mind was warring with varied emotions. On the one hand, I was worried about meeting Alice's family – just being in her house and in her room made me feel pale, inadequate, unworthy, as though I had nothing to offer. And yet, there was a small part of me that was inspired by Alice and everything about her, and this part of me was growing stronger and lighting a tiny fire inside of me. I was beginning to realize that there was more to life than just surviving. _A lot more_.

"Come on, Bella, let's go see Edward," Alice urged.

"Edward?" I asked.

"My brother."

"Oh, okay," I agreed and shuffled out of the room behind Alice and Jasper, a curious wariness hanging over me like a fog.

The door to Edward's bedroom was closed when we approached. Alice rapped lightly, yelling through the door, "Edward, open up! I want you to meet Bella."

"Hold on a sec," came a sultry voice behind the door and recognition hit me with a jolt, shocking my body rigid. Before I could stop myself, I gasped. Jasper turned a knowing eye to me, but Alice's brow furrowed in confusion. As the air gusted out of my lungs, and I took a tremulous breath in, Alice looked to me and then to Jasper for answers. He was shrugging at her when the door opened and I forced my eyes down, not yet ready to see if my hopes and suspicions were actually true.

But I couldn't wait forever and so I raised my chin to see gorgeous, clear, sea-glass green eyes focused on me. I wilted, nearly melting under the intensity in his gaze. His lips were pursed in a beautiful smirk that I hadn't seen on him before.

"Well, what's going on?" Alice asked to no one in particular, frustrated to be in the dark. I swallowed, hoping that I could find my voice. But before I could open my mouth to answer her, the smirk disappeared and Edward spoke.

"Hi Bella," he said.

* * *

End Notes:

Please don't hate me for the cliffie. You knew it was coming. I just got a little crazy descriptive with the Cullen house and had to stop before I was describing the thread count of the sheets on Alice's bed or the embroidered designs on each pillow. I know you guys want more human interaction, so it's coming big time next chapter! Thank you so much for reading. I really love to hear your comments – I always respond, so send me some feedback!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N:

For some reason I always feel like it's important to say something up here – even if I don't have anything to say…It's part of the fun of fanfiction – having a captive audience to rant and rave to, to ramble to, to complain to, to explain, declare, pose, confuse…

As always, thank you so much to my fantabulous beta, ms_ambrosia who kicked my comma butt on this long chapter! It is my goal to someday write a chapter and somehow intrinsically and magically know - like she does - where every single, stupid, little, insignificant comma should be. But until then, I am thoroughly and completely dependent on her mad skills.

For those of you who like long chapters, this is my longest so far! I just couldn't stop and the story seemed to flow naturally. I hope you guys like this. Please let me know what you think at the end.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is the one and only Twilight goddess. I just made Bella go to therapy and Edward into her doc.

* * *

"Dr. Cullen?" I squeaked, my legs turning rubbery. I took an instinctual step backwards, mashing my heel into Jasper's toes.

"Ow," he said, pushing me forward lightly, but I was so limp that I lurched forward, grasping on the air, trying to avoid the inevitable contact with the man whose tall, handsome body filled the doorframe. My hands flew up to break my fall, connecting hard on the firm chest of my beautiful doctor. Even through his black t-shirt I felt like my hands were burning from the contact with him. In fact, my whole body was on fire - a blazing inferno raged inside of me - and I knew without a doubt, that my skin was burning too, flushing into a mortifying shade of fuchsia.

I stopped breathing. My trembling, clammy hands pushed against Dr. Cullen's rigid form, my eyes focusing on the black nothingness of his shirt.

"Bella," he said softly, gently - almost a breathy whisper - and my eyes unwittingly flitted upwards to meet his. The concern in his gaze was laced with humor, a knowing smirk curling the edges of his lips.

I felt the pulsing heat begin to recede as I absorbed the perfect symmetry of his features: his strong jaw peppered with a day's growth of hair, his sharp cheek bones anchoring his incredible green eyes. He blinked slowly at me as I tried to meet his stare and I noticed that his eyes were fringed with long, feathery lashes that softened the hard angles of his face.

I was entirely lost in the moment, locked in the most awkward position and yet entirely powerless to move when Dr. Cullen raised his arms and latched his hands on my shoulders. My breath hitched at the strength and firmness of his grip, his muscles tightening as he shifted me upward on my feet. My heart felt like it was sputtering uncontrollably in my chest, reminding me of my truck's grumbling engine as I navigated it along the twisted mountain road. I took several deep and rather obvious breaths to try to prevent my body from bursting into flames and took a necessary step backward, this time avoiding Jasper's feet.

"Bella?" Alice asked and I was thankful for the interruption, turning to face her. "You know Edward?" She sounded almost hurt, as though we had a secret friendship that we were hiding from her. I was thinking of the gross improbability of having that kind of arrangement with Dr. Cullen when Alice seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

"You're her doctor?" she said, looking first at Edward then at me, her mouth hanging open as she made the connection in her mind. "Bella…does that mean? Oh." She pivoted so that she was facing me and I could see by her expression of pity and remorse that she'd figured out our connection.

"Yes, Alice, I'm Bella's doctor and unless she wants to tell you more about it, that's really all you need to know right now, okay?" Edward asked and I recognized his voice as the professional tone that I was so familiar with. Alice's eyebrows pinched together, scowling at her brother petulantly.

"Alice, let's go on upstairs," Jasper suggested, running his knuckles down her back. She instantly turned to me with a small forgiving smile and I wondered at what kind of conclusions she was drawing in her mind. With one last look at her brother, she laced her fingers in mine, pulling me so that our shoulders bumped. We began to walk toward the stairway to the main level of the house, and though both of our gazes were cast downward, I sensed Jasper and Dr. Cullen following.

I was so overwhelmed by the turn of events that my natural instinct was to shut down and build a wall of numbness around me. I didn't know that I'd be seeing Dr. Cullen and I felt woefully unprepared to face him, to talk with him, and to act normally around him. I was doubtful that I could hide my feelings for him in this setting. That Dr. Cullen was here, walking behind me, was somewhat unbelievable, but I sensed him as though a surge of energy was coming from his direction and pulsing off my back. I couldn't deny how alive I suddenly felt, and rather than hide from this feeling, I allowed it to wash over me.

Alice squeezed my hand as we got to the top of the stairs and I turned to face her warm smile. I forced myself to remember that I was here because she had invited me, because she befriended me when I was at the absolute lowest point in my life. I worried about the attention focused on me here. Would everyone in Alice's family be able to see through me? Would they all know how deep my feelings were for Dr. Cullen? I resolved that I would do whatever I could to avoid him. I wouldn't jeopardize my friendship with Alice by acting like a stupid, lovesick patient.

I tried to ignore the sounds of the footfalls behind us and the way my body reacted just by knowing that Jasper and Dr. Cullen were following us up the stairs. I tried to focus my attention on Alice's little hand in mine and the comfort she offered me. I hated that Alice's mood had shifted so dramatically since earlier and that in some way I was the cause of her depressed state. She was like a luminous candle that always burned bright and I had blown out her flame. I had never meant to hurt Alice; in fact, I was actually planning on telling her about Renee and Charlie and my therapy sessions and all the other skeletons in my closet, but it had never been the right time. She already had a lot on her mind with Jasper leaving and I just didn't want to bring her down more, to tarnish her shine with the ridiculously tragic tale of my trashy life so far.

If I didn't speak of it, I could pretend my life before hadn't existed. Every time I thought of Renee the ache would seep back into my heart, making me shrink and close myself off a little more. But if I was honest, I was frightened to tell Alice about Renee. What if I told her and then she saw me differently? Her mother was a successful artist whose paintings illustrated the beauty and purity of nature. My mother was a heroin addict who knew very little of beauty, her actions mostly proving that life could be dismal, meaningless and ugly. In this respect, Alice and I had nothing in common. What did I have to offer her as a friend? I didn't deserve to be the gum on the bottom of her shoe.

But I needed her desperately, desiring so badly to be worthy of her friendship that I fought against my insecurities as strongly as I could. Alice was addictive and I wanted to suck the light from her and share some of the shine. It made so much sense that Dr. Cullen – Edward – was her brother. I was just as addicted to him as I was to Alice. They both had an electric quality that drew me to them; when I was near either of them I almost believed that the other world of pain and ugliness didn't exist, that it didn't matter.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and summoned the courage to be the girl I wanted to be. With Alice by my side I marched bravely forward into the large living space. Edward's pace behind me accelerated and as he brushed by me my heart skidded excitedly in my chest. He walked with long, purposeful strides toward the kitchen, where a lovely older woman, with her hair elegantly twisted at the nape of her graceful neck, was emptying a grocery bag of its contents.

"Mom, let me do that," Edward said as he grasped a can of black olives out of her hand and placed it on the counter.

"Thank you, Edward. It's so nice to have you around," she added in a sweet, motherly tone that thrilled and pained me simultaneously. Jasper stepped forward and embraced Esme, kissing her on her cheek.

"Mrs. C, you're looking beautiful tonight," he complimented with easy and practiced charm. She blushed, swatting him lightly on the chest, and I couldn't help blushing also, the familiar heat rising from my chest to the tips of my ears.

I stood hesitantly behind Alice, watching the exchange with interest when Alice stepped aside and tugged me forward.

My eyes shifted briefly to the kitchen, where Edward was putting a jar of pickles into the refrigerator. As if he sensed me looking, he glanced at me, a half smile escaping his lips before he turned quickly back to his task.

"Mom, this is Bella," Alice said, and I ripped my eyes from Edward, looking up into Esme's warm expression. Alice held her hand out, palm facing upward, gesturing toward her mother with a flourish. "Bella, this is my mom, Esme."

Esme stepped away from the counter where Edward had lined up all the cans and packages neatly and focused her attention on me. As she approached I could see that she was even prettier than I first realized. She moved gracefully in stiletto heels, almost like a dancer, the hem of her silky dress swishing around her knees as she walked. She had rings on almost all of her fingers, and a necklace of fat, heavy jade beads wrapped around her neck. Her eyes were a darker, softer version of Edward's brilliant green. As she smiled and extended her hand, small wrinkles creased the corners, the only evidence of her age.

"Bella, hello, I can't tell you how happy we are to have you," she said effusively as she grabbed Alice around the waist. "Our Alice is very selective about her friends. We are so glad that she finally found someone, besides Jasper, who she approves of. Really, Bella, you should be flattered," she said exasperatedly, while jostling Alice in her arms as if trying to literally shake some sense into her. I wasn't sure how to respond to Esme's statement so I nodded, hoping it would suffice.

It appeared to have the desired effect because Esme then lead us into the living space, linking her arms with mine and Alice's as she drew us to the bookshelves on the side wall.

"Let's show Bella the photos." Esme grabbed a tiny photograph in a wide silver frame that was propped up against a stack of worn paperbacks and held it out to me.

"Mom, why did you have to show her that one?" Alice moaned, protesting weakly. I took the photo into my hands and immediately smiled at the little portrait. It was a photograph of Alice, who must have been about four years old when the picture was taken. She had a long paintbrush in her hand, holding it proudly in the air for whoever was pointing the camera at her. She was standing in front of an empty canvas, naked, her body entirely covered in a rainbow of paint strokes. Wide red and purple blotches were dashed across her chin and nose, a bright green streak dripping off the hair matted to her cheek. The look on her face was one of complete triumph, total satisfaction in her creative use of the paint.

It was an adorable photo and I understood why Esme showed it to me first because it perfectly illustrated who Alice was. She was unique, and couldn't be restricted by the borders of a canvas. She probably never colored in the lines and probably always colored the grass purple. She was special and her mother knew this and encouraged her.

"Oh look," she said, taking the photograph from my hands and handing me a much larger one with two boys, standing by a tent, thoroughly covered in mud. "That's Edward and Emmett before Alice was even born. You would think my children where always dirty from these pictures," she mused. "Actually, that would be pretty accurate. Don't you think so, Edward?" she called to the kitchen.

"Um, yeah," Edward answered, walking over to where we stood, a beer in one hand, a pink cocktail in the other. He handed the cocktail to Esme, elaborating, "We were almost always either muddy or wet in one way or another. And remember how we had that white carpet in the house back then? I can still hear you yelling at us for getting it dirty all the time."

He mimicked her tirade, his voice raised a few octaves, all the while smiling at her lovingly. "You rugrats…get off the carpet! If you get mud on my carpet one more time…Blah blah blah." Esme pretended to be offended, but her composure faltered and she bent over laughing at the memory, pulling Edward to her so that she could kiss his cheek.

"Oh, where did all the time go?" she mused rhetorically, messing his hair with her fingers. The obvious love they had for each other was infectious and I absorbed all I could of the warm feeling it gave me.

"I don't know what I was thinking with that carpet. Two young boys…Oregon…rain. I must have been insane," Esme concluded, taking a sip of her drink and giggling at the notion.

We were all laughing with her when the front door opened and sharp footsteps reverberated through the front entryway.

"Hello," a female voice called a second before the striking, long-legged, blond-haired Dr. Hale appeared at the edge of the room. I tried to hide my shock at her appearance, but my body instinctively turned to Edward, seeking his reaction. He was smiling, but otherwise seemed unsurprised and slightly disinterested.

"Rosalie!" Alice and Esme cried out simultaneously, Alice sprinting to her side. Rosalie kissed Alice on the cheek, looking over her shoulder to catch my eye.

"Bella," Rosalie said with a friendly tone, "I'm so happy to see you again. You look beautiful," she said in the same genuine voice. She reached over and squeezed my hand affectionately, instantly making me feel shameful and guilty for feeling intimidated by her flawless beauty. I was so taken by surprise by her offhand compliment that I didn't even process it, instead concentrating on staring at Rosalie as she sauntered through the room, hugging Jasper first and then nearing Edward.

My stomach roiled in anticipation of their inevitable greeting. When they eventually did, I had no idea how to interpret it. Rosalie simply waved in his direction and then plopped down on the couch, slipping off her shoes. She seemed much more engrossed in rubbing and flexing her toes than talking to Edward. I was almost offended at her lack of interest in him. _Almost_.

"Bella," Alice whispered in a barbed, strained voice, tugging on my arm. I followed her to the private, dark corner of the kitchen. She faced me, hoisting herself up onto the counter top, her legs dangling off the edge. She patted the spot next to her, her hand smacking the cold granite. I tried to mimic her actions, but my motions were unpracticed and clumsy, my knees banging against the lower cabinets.

"So you know Rosalie too, huh?" she asked, continuing without waiting for my answer. "I guess that means that you're in Edward's group on Mondays and Wednesdays. Jasper's in his group too…his night group. Did you know that?"

I nodded, instantly wondering why Jasper failed to tell me that Edward was Alice's brother.

"He's really helped Jasper," Alice continued, placing her hand on my thigh. "I know he can help you too. You don't have to tell me anything Bella. I understand why you didn't and I don't want you to think that you have to tell me anything you're not ready to share." She reached over and placed her hand on top of mine, her mouth stretched into a smile, her eyes wide with sincerity.

Her words made me feel infinitely lighter, breaking away a little of the wall I'd built around myself. I realized in that moment that it might be safe to open up to her, to allow her to see me with all my wounds, all my weaknesses exposed. I could see in her eyes that all along she had seen through my pathetic veneer of normality, suspecting that there was a sad story behind all my anxiety and evasive behavior. And she still wanted to be my friend, selflessly giving me the time I needed to screw my head on straight and lay it all out on the table.

But my time had run out. Fate had plans for me – thrusting me into a situation where both Dr. Cullen and Dr. Hale were present – as though my past was colliding headlong with my future. This was a pivotal moment in my relationship with Alice. I could either walk away with my wall intact, or I could let it crumble and let her see the broken shell of a person I'd become.

As Alice looked into my eyes with compassion and patience, I could no longer fight the tears from falling. They began to stream down my face as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, the cold surface of the counter chilling my thighs through the fabric of my jeans. I wiped at the moisture on my face, but couldn't stem the now steady flow of tears. The emotion continued to build as a sob wrenched itself from my chest, Alice clinging to me even tighter, her thigh crushed against mine.

"Bella, shhh, it's okay. It's okay," she kept repeating, but I barely noted her words. My sobs were growing in strength and volume, my body violently heaving. In the back of my mind I knew that I was dangerously close to alerting the entire household of my impending breakdown, but I couldn't stop. My body bent forward of its own volition and I would have fallen facedown onto the floor if not for Alice's firm grip on my shoulder. Instead, I slid off of the counter, dragging her with me, my body instinctively curling into a ball. A whimpering moan escaped my throat as I tucked myself as tightly as a knot.

I kept squeezing my arms around me until I buckled from the strain. I heard the strangled moans echoing in my brain, but only vaguely recognized them as my own. My legs were numb beneath me as shudders ripped uncontrollably along my nerves. It felt as though all the pain and horror that I was clinging onto was being physically purged from my body.

The sobs began to decrease in intensity when a powerful exhaustion fell upon me. As if someone flicked on a light switch, my senses began to awaken to the world around me. I rocked a little on my coiled, tingling legs, and my heart began to slow its frenzied pace. I could hear a soft, warm voice; the words were indistinct and fuzzy, but calming none the less. A pattern of warmth spread across my back and I realized a hand was moving along the fabric of my shirt, the comforting, stimulating strokes easing me carefully back to the moment.

I began to understand the words that were being spoken, Alice's worried voice drawing me to her. "Bella, please…Bella…it's okay…you're okay," I heard clearly, my eyelids still closing out the room I knew I'd have to face.

Achingly slowly I unwound my body, stretching out my arms and lifting my hands to wipe at my eyes. Rather than prolong the inevitable, I snapped them open. The lights were dim, but my gaze immediately fell on Alice, who's red and blotchy tear-streaked face momentarily confused me.

"Bella?" she whispered timidly, her hand reaching out to touch me, but dropping limply in the air.

"Bella?" a stronger voice said from behind me and my head involuntarily turned to see Edward crouched on the ground, his hand still on my back. He lifted his other arm and lightly grasped onto my shoulder, spinning me so that I was facing him. I tried to drop my gaze to the floor, ashamed and mortified beyond belief by my actions. I was certain that I'd ruined the night, that they'd all want me out of their house, and that I'd destroyed any chance I'd ever had for a friendship with Alice. I was so frustrated that I'd messed everything up. How could I be so stupid? Even though I imagined that I had no more tears left, a fresh cluster of tears began to slide down my face.

"Bella?" Edward whispered breathily like a lover, reaching out and lifting my face with his hand so that I couldn't hide from his penetrating green eyes. I tried to look away, but he wouldn't let me, his fingers curling over my jaw. I could hear his deep breaths that were like my own as his eyes held mine prisoner. They were narrowed intensely and almost tortured, as though he was silently communicating something that couldn't be said aloud. I returned his stare, confused and frustrated, wanting desperately to understand what his eyes were telling me.

I could feel the heat emanating from his chest as he reached out his thumbs and carefully swiped under my eyes. "Bella, you're going to okay," he said with certainty. He shifted his body so that his knees were under him and pushed himself to a standing position. He looked down at me and held his hand out, offering to help me up. I scanned the room, noticing for the first time that Jasper was standing off by the refrigerator and that Alice had moved so that she was leaning against him, enfolded in his arms. They looked relaxed, but alert, allowing Edward to take charge of "dealing with" me.

I shifted my eyes to the gorgeous man hovering above me, his beauty taking my breath away. The light from the overhead fixture shined across his messy hair, illuminating the strands in gold and bronze, as though dipped in the sun. His shirt and pants were wrinkled from sitting on the floor, his mouth stretched in a comforting smirk. He widened his smile as I hesitated and I placed my hand in his, untangling my legs underneath me. I hobbled a little, my legs unsure and Edward wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Whoa," he said, walking me backwards so that I was leaning against the counter. "Alice, get Bella some water," he ordered as he walked around the length of the long bar, grabbed one of the stools and brought it back to where I was perched precariously. His long fingers coiled around my arms, moving me forward, my body buckling like a rag doll as he helped me sit down on the stool. He took the water from Alice's hand and then placed it in mine.

"Drink some water, Bella," he said in an imploring, warm voice that endeared me to him all the more. He raised his hand to palm my cheek and I couldn't help but lean into it. He chuckled innocently at me, and I twitched away, embarrassed to be caught exposing my feelings. My eyes flicked to Alice and Jasper who were consumed with each other, whispering soft words. Alice's body had turned to face Jasper, her hands spread across his chest while his fingers were linked together around her tiny waist, drawing her close.

"Bella, would you like to go home?" Edward asked and I quickly shook my head.

"No," I squeaked, my voice raw and hoarse from crying.

"Well, would you like to go lie down in Alice's room for a bit?" he asked carefully and I realized how obvious my fragility, my vulnerability had become. I felt worn out, as though I'd been running or swimming all day. It seemed like years had passed since I crawled out of bed that morning. I felt so changed, so altered, as if I looked in a mirror I wouldn't recognize my reflection. I didn't really have the energy to fully comprehend this feeling, or to worry about it.

I nodded at Edward's suggestion, willing to do whatever he asked, to agree to whatever he thought I should do – except go home. He turned to Alice. "Alice, Bella needs to lie down for a bit. Why don't you take her to your room?"

Alice jerked quickly away from Jasper and launched herself in my direction as though caught shirking her duty. "Bella," she said remorsefully, "I'm so _so_ sorry. I hope that I didn't upset you. Please know that I never meant to upset you," she pleaded, her words so contrite and repentant that I knew I had to stop her.

"No! _I'm_ sorry. _I'm_ the one who needs to apologize," I replied, emphasizing my words.

"Bella!" Alice blurted, relief flooding her body as she dived forward, her arms wrapping around me. I returned her hug, lifting my arms and squeezing her to me.

"I can't explain it, Alice," I said as she dropped her arms and I stood up, "but I feel so much better." She beamed at me, lacing her fingers in mine and pulled me along a pathway in the darkness, through the edge of the living room, and to the top of the stairs. I followed her down the stairs to her room and to the edge of her bed.

We sat down side by side and after a few moments she tilted her head and peered over at me. I could tell that she wanted to ask me a question, but she was afraid of upsetting me. I needed her to feel like we could talk, that there wasn't anything that she couldn't ask.

"You can ask me, you know. I'll try not to have another freakish breakdown."

She giggled at my sarcasm. "Well…I just wanted to tell you that no matter what has happened to you, what you've been through…um, well…I'm your friend and I'll always be your friend," she said definitively, but sweetly.

"Thank you Alice," I replied, blushing, the emotion threatening to burst to the surface. I looked down at my hands, Alice's gaze following mine.

"Did you really want to lie down, Bella? Or I could paint your nails. I have this really cool metallic color that would look so awesome on your hands."

"That sounds great," I agreed. "But don't we need to get upstairs? Dinner? Jasper?"

"It won't take long. Dinner's not ready yet and Jasper wanted to spend some time with Edward tonight anyway," she explained, pulling my hand into her lap. "Bella, you've got to stop biting your nails, they're all wonky," she said with a frown.

"Sit over at my desk and I'll go get the polish from the bathroom," she said, springing up lithely and disappearing through the door. She reappeared a minute later with a nail file, a handful of tissues, and a bottle of nail polish that looked like a vial of liquid metal.

"Let's make your hands beautiful," she said, dragging the file along the edge of my index finger and rounding out the tip.

*

Once my hands were all filed perfectly and polished a shiny chrome, I allowed Alice to brush my hair and put some make-up on my face. When I looked in the mirror I could barely detect the red circles on the swollen tissue under my eyes. She had lined my eyelid with smoky brown eyeshadow and swiped my lashes with a light coat of mascara that just slightly emphasized my eyes. I was happily surprised with her results and felt confident enough in my appearance that when she urged me to head upstairs with her, I only hesitated for a second to calm my nerves.

Unlike our slow ascent earlier, she ran up the stairs two at a time and I hurried behind her, trying to keep up. There were more voices in the room than earlier, and I felt a stab of fear as I rounded the corner.

"Hi Dad," I heard Alice say as she walked up to the distinguished looking man sitting next to Esme on one of the long leather couches.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, reaching out to hug her affectionately with one arm, holding the amber colored cocktail in his other hand precariously away from her so that it wouldn't spill. When he saw me shuffling behind her he stood, handing his cocktail to Esme, and reaching his hand out to me.

"You must be Bella. I'm Carlisle. It's so nice to meet you. I'm good friends with your father and well, I've heard quite a bit about you through the years. We are all so happy to have you here…really," he said genuinely, squeezing my hand.

"Hey, what about me?" bellowed a loud voice from across the room. I turned to see a large man walking into the room from the kitchen, a beer in one hand. He was tall and broad and would have been imposing if it weren't for the dimples in his cheeks and the kindness in his eyes. He had on a uniform that I didn't at first recognize, but I realized why it looked familiar as soon as he began to speak.

"Hey Bella – I'm Emmett, Alice's oldest, smartest, and best looking brother," he exclaimed, an exaggerated scoff coming from the other side of the room. I turned to see a guilty look on Edward's face as Emmett smiled massively, his huge paw extended in greeting.

"Nice to meet you," I squeaked as his hand enclosed mine. "Are you a police officer…in Forks?" I asked.

"Yep. And before you ask, yes, your dad's my boss. And might I add, he's a _great_ boss," he said humorously, chuckling at himself. "No really, Bella, he is a great guy. I've known Charlie since I was a kid – he used to go fishing with me and my dad. He was like an uncle or something. It's because of him I became a cop – first in Chicago and then now back here in Forks for the past month."

"Seriously," he continued, "anyone could see that I wasn't cut out for being in a hospital all day like dad…and _Edward_. And your dad was the one who planted the idea of being a cop in my brain. When I was little I wanted to be just like him. We played cops and robbers all the time when we were kids. I always made Edward play the bad guy and I'd chase him down, tackle him, arrest him, and put him in jail…No shit!"

"Emmett there are better words," Esme admonished, interrupting.

"Yeah Emmett, stop with the old stories. Bella doesn't want to hear about how you used to beat me up, torture me, and trap me in the shower," Edward said, sighing in exasperation.

"Yeah, sorry man, anyway Bella, just wanted to let you know that we're all glad you're back…for both you…_and _Charlie," he declared, taking a long draught of his beer and sitting down on the couch in between Edward and Rosalie.

"Bella, sit next to me," Alice said, reaching out for my hand.

I sat down next to her and watched as Emmett draped his arm around Rosalie. She immediately scooted closer and snuggled up to him. All of a sudden, it all came clear – Rosalie was with Emmett, not with Edward. My heart did a little jump for joy, dancing happily for once.

Alice leaned in to whisper, "Rosalie and Emmett are so in love. They got married last summer and just moved back to Forks a couple of months ago. They're living here while they look for a house. She's so beautiful and glamorous," she said, staring in their direction as Emmett kissed Rosalie on the neck while she flexed her long legs.

Conversation in the room was hushed, Emmett and Rosalie catching each other up on the happenings of their day, Jasper and Edward talking heatedly in the corner, while Esme and Carlisle moved to the kitchen to finish up the dinner preparations. Alice jumped up to follow her parents and I took the opportunity to look around the room warily, wondering if my earlier behavior would somehow resurface to haunt me. Somehow, my mental breakdown seemed to have been proverbially shuffled under the rug. I silently prayed that it wouldn't come up again. Amazingly, I trusted that the three people besides me who witnessed the event – Edward, Alice and Jasper – seemed equally unlikely to dredge up anything that might slip me back into that state of deep distress.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable without anyone to talk to, I stood and made my way to the dining area near the kitchen where Alice was setting the long table made of distressed and reclaimed lumber. On one side was a long wooden bench, the other several chairs of all different styles, painted in bright colors. A whimsical, romantic chandelier made up of femininely curled iron painted white with hundreds of sparkly crystals dangled over the table, casting a shimmering glow.

"Can I help?" I asked Alice eagerly. She nodded, reaching into a drawer in the green sideboard, displaying rows upon rows of colorful glass objects – vases, wineglasses, cocktail tumblers – and retrieved a long-handled lighter. She handed the lighter to me with one hand, while cradling three wineglasses in the other.

"Why don't you light the candles while I finish this up?" she asked, her smile slightly uncertain as though she were weighing the emotional strain of the task in her mind.

I tried to smile reassuringly as I grasped the lighter in my hand and turned to face the three massive iron candelabras on the table. Each one held several fat, ivory candles waiting to be lit and serve their rightful purpose. I watched as Alice placed the glasses in front of each place setting and then folded white cloth napkins into neat triangles. As she arranged the silverware on the table I walked behind her, flicking the trigger on the lighter and leaning in to set each wick ablaze. Soon the table was set and I stepped back, admiring the beauty and elegance, the candles bathing the table in a warm ambiance.

I was startled when I heard footsteps behind me, turning to see Edward approaching with a large platter in his arms. Rosalie followed closely on his heels, carrying a basket of rolls in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Soon, all the food was placed in the empty spaces of the vast table where everyone naturally gravitated toward the sights and smells of the delicious meal Esme had prepared. I had never seen such an incredible looking meal and I wondered if the Cullens ate like this all the time.

"This…this is incredible," I whispered to Alice, who was climbing over the bench to sit down, my eyes taking in all the different dishes. On the largest platter, a whole pink-fleshed fish was surrounded by a sea of roasted carrots, onions, and green beans. A tall wooden bowl held a colorful green salad with tomatoes, walnuts, feta cheese and green apples. Several other dishes were littered across the table – one had pungent green olives, another was heaped with wild rice. On the far end of the table, Rosalie had placed the deep basket of steaming rolls next to a small glass bowl with spiced almonds.

"They don't eat like this every night," Jasper explained, leaning in from his place on Alice's far side. "Esme went to culinary school in San Francisco and she likes to practice her cooking skills every now and then. We all get to benefit." He smiled happily at the spread, throwing a mischievous wink at Esme.

"I love to cook," Esme said, beaming as she sat down at the end of the table, "it's my passion."

"That, among other things," Carlisle piped in as he lowered himself into the chair next to her, kissing her cheek before taking his napkin and placing it in his lap.

"I'm going to miss your cooking, Esme," Jasper declared. Alice's eyes caught his gaze and I caught the quick, silent exchange before Alice looked dolefully down at her empty plate.

Rosalie sat down next to me, Emmett across from her. That only left one chair open – the one between Esme and Emmett, directly across from my seat. Edward was still standing, the wine bottle and an opener in his hand. He skillfully plucked the cork and walked around the table, pouring a bit in each person's glass. When he didn't hesitate to pour a splash in the glass in front of me I turned my gaze to him in surprise.

"It's just a splash, Bella. Will Chief Swan be angry?" he asked, his voice immediately causing my insides to agitate excitedly.

"Um, no…no, it's okay," I answered, not knowing if it was true or not.

I stared at the rich blood-red liquid in the bulbous wine goblet and thought about the last time that I'd had a taste of alcohol. I was only nine when one of Renee's particularly unsavory boyfriends, Marcus, had forced me to drink an entire can of beer. He was a greasy-haired mattress salesman who smoked nearly a carton of cigarettes a day and drank two six packs of Budweiser Light each night. He was unpredictable and slimy, instantly setting my nerves on edge. I never wanted to disappear more than when he was around.

He thought that embarrassing me was an amusing pastime. He liked to prove how little I meant to Renee, continually pushing the boundaries of how far he could push me without her interference. Like an immature child, he seemed merely curious to see how much he could get away with.

I had just finished doing my homework when Renee and Marcus stumbled through the door, already drunk and doped up. I turned on the television to avoid them. I can't remember what show was on when Marcus' focus shifted to me as it so often did. Before I could think of a way to divert his attention, he thrust an open beer can into my hands, thinking it would be amusing to get me drunk. I pushed it away, but he was persistent and cruel. Renee weakly protested, but as always she relented to him without much of a fight. I remember her words – the same ones whenever there was something she wanted from me and I was resistant: "Come on baby, it won't hurt anything."

I hated those words and her bleating, syrupy tone. But like her, I always relented, and I took a tentative sip of the bitter liquid, hoping it would placate Marcus. I placed the near full can on the water-stained coffee table, rings from past drinks tattooing the wooden veneer. Marcus watched my motions with the inappropriate, misplaced interest of a bored and devious mind.

I didn't drink enough for him. With a malevolent sneer, he grasped the can and pushed it against my arm, the icy perspiration on the can forcing my body to jerk in reaction.

"That's not enough to even taste it. Drink it all, Isabella. It won't hurt nothin'," he said, trying out my mother's favorite phrase. I threw a frantic glance at her, but her eyes were already glazed over and fixed lifelessly on the television. I looked down at the can she held in her limp hand, forgotten much like me. I lifted the beer to my lips, wincing as the bubbles hit the back of my throat. I closed my eyes and took a big gulp, as though swallowing medicine, so that I could finish it quickly. Marcus's eyes lit up with amusement as my eyes watered and my face twisted in distress.

He watched with a malicious interest as I swallowed each gulp, not breaking his stare or sitting back against the couch cushions until the can was empty. When I put it back down, he snatched it and shook it, releasing a loud guffaw of delight. He'd succeeded in manipulating me, reveling in his pathetic victory. I remembered the roiling, full feeling in my belly as I lay in bed that night, worrying that the beer was some sort of acid-like substance that would slowly eat away the insides of my stomach.

I couldn't resist looking at Edward as I lifted the delicate glass in my shaking hand, the wine sloshing from side to side. He'd made his path around the table and finished filling his own glass. He was still standing when he raised his full glass and held it out ceremoniously.

"I'd like to make a toast," he said and everyone latched their gaze upon him. As I always did in our group session, I felt relieved to have an excuse to stare at him openly, my eyes greedily immortalizing the moment.

"To Jasper, who we'll miss while he's off saving our forests. And to mom, for the wonderful dinner. And to family. And to new friends," he said, looking directly at me, pointing his glass my direction.

"New friends," each person at the table repeated, turning their faces toward me. Alice squeezed my thigh under the table and smiled sweetly at me. I blushed furiously at the attention and looked down at my empty plate, unable to return their warm acceptance. I noticed that all the glasses on the table seemed to be in the air and everyone was taking a sip of their wine so I brought the glass to my nose, taking a shallow sniff. The brief whiff of alcohol was enough to take me back to that low moment of my past, to elicit that same fear, the same feeling of extreme discomfort in my stomach. I put the glass back onto the table, pushing it as far from my place setting as possible without being too obvious.

"Let's eat," Carlisle thankfully suggested and everyone immediately set about passing dishes around the table and piling their plates with food. I kept glancing at Alice's portions to guide how much to take and where to place the food on my plate. But then I realized that Alice wasn't eating the entire meal, sticking determinedly to her self-imposed raw foods diet. I decided I would duplicate her plate, but add a little of the rest of the meal so that I could taste everything. My blatant scrutiny of Alice's selections drew Esme's attention to the bird-like portions carefully organized on Alice's plate.

"Alice, we've had this discussion before and I thought we'd agreed. I will allow you to follow your diet when you make your own food, but when I make dinner you will try a little of everything. I respect your decision to try this diet of yours, but eating a little fish is not going to hurt you."

My eyes sought Alice's reaction to her mother's speech. She looked momentarily rebuffed and irritated, but brushed it off quickly. "Okay, sure," she acquiesced, nodding and reaching for the serving fork on the fish platter. She cut off a small piece and then scooped a generous spoonful of rice onto her plate.

When all the food had travelled the stretch of the table, from one hand to another, I had a full plate that exactly mirrored Alice's, including the small portion of fish and rice. I kept peeking at her as she nibbled at the fish, scooping tiny spoonfuls of rice, and I copied her motions. We were almost done eating the last few olives from our plates when I looked up to see Edward watching me quizzically.

I looked away from him hastily, but my eyes couldn't resist flashing back to him. When they did, I was shocked to see his face blush lightly as if I'd caught him doing something he shouldn't. We both looked away; my eyes fell to the lone olive on my plate that I nudged unthinkingly with my fork. I took a deep breath and looked up again to find his eyes still on me, intense and piercing. I knew that I was blushing too at this point – the heat was swirling in my cheeks and tingling the tips of my ears. I was utterly confused by his gaze, but I couldn't look away. It was as if we were absolutely alone at the table, silently communicating something that couldn't be said aloud – something that maybe could never be said in words.

"Edward," Esme called, breaking the enchantment. "Will you help clear the table?"

"I'll help," called Rosalie over my shoulder, sliding her long leg over the bench, revealing her now bare feet. She collected several dishes, piling them in a lopsided stack, and padded her way to the kitchen behind Edward.

Emmett shifted toward me, straddled the bench and extended his massive hand. "Wanna hand?" he asked, his dimples twinkling irresistibly.

"Um, okay," I agreed reluctantly, placing my hand in his, embarrassed by his attention. He took my gesture as an invitation to reach out and swing his hands under my armpits, lifting me over the bench like I was a child.

"Emmett! Stop manhandling my friend. You're going to scare her away!" Alice chided, punching her brother in the arm. By the way in which Emmett flinched, I could imagine Alice had done this many times. I could see her when she was a little girl, tough and assertive, her hands on her hips, a pouty lip, reaching up to punch her older brother in much the same way. I smiled to myself at the picture, envious of their unmistakably affectionate banter.

"No way, Little Sis, you're the scary one in the family. If you haven't scared her off already, she's here to stay." Emmett walked to the living room area, dropping heavily to the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table. Alice shuffled after him, curling up with her legs under her on the couch opposite of Emmett.

"Hey man, don't go calling my woman scary," Jasper said, slapping Emmett on the back with one hand while handing him a bottle of beer with the other.

"Yeah, you wouldn't think so, Mr. Ink Blot. But seriously Sis, when you gonna grow out of the blue hair, combat boots, piercing thing? I mean, you're like Edward Scissorhands or something."

"Shut up, Emmett," Alice said haughtily, but I could tell by her downward glance that his words actually hurt her. I felt a burning, fiery, angry need to defend her.

"I love the way Alice looks," I piped up, surprising myself that I actually had the courage to speak my thoughts. Emmett, Jasper both looked at me with an equal amount of surprise and disbelief. Alice though was beaming, her face stretched into the biggest smile I'd ever seen on her. She uncurled herself from the couch and launched herself at me.

She pulled me in for a hug, her small arms clenching tighter than I thought them capable. She whispered in my ear, sincerity in her hushed words, "Thank you, Bella. You are so awesome."

"Emmett, are you making Alice feel bad again?" Rosalie asked as she slinked into the room, wiping her hands on her thighs. "Didn't we talk about this? Alice is still a teenager and she's simply asserting her independence, developing her sense of identity. Her choice in clothing is not your concern." It was surprising to see how Emmett blanched under her strong reprimand.

"But Rosie, look at the hole in her shirt. She could have changed for dinner –"

"I don't think it matters if she wears a holey shirt to dinner," Edward yelled from the kitchen. "At least she ate normally tonight. And really, I agree with Rosalie, Alice's look is not anything to worry about. It is typical for teenagers to go through this phase of self-awareness. It's important for us to support her, nurture her, guide her so that she can make the right choices."

"Ugh, stop! Stop right now!" Alice bellowed in frustration. "Do you see what I have to put up with?" she asked me, throwing her hands up in the air. "God, I live with three doctors. Don't you guys have anyone else to psychoanalyze besides me?" she cried exasperatedly. She instantly realized her mistake, her eyes shot toward me, panic and fear radiating from every pore in her body.

"Oh god, Bella, I didn't mean you," she reached out to me, placing her hand on my arm. But I barely felt her touch. I should have been embarrassed that the all the attention had shifted to me. I should have blushed, stammered, cried. But I didn't. I had become entirely numb, my body shut down.

"It's okay Alice," I somehow managed to say, the words coming as if from someone else's lips. "I think I should head home now," I added lifelessly, and though I saw the pain I was causing Alice, I could do nothing to prevent it. I was desperate for escape. My mind was blank; my sole thought was that I had to leave. I had to leave. I had to leave.

"Wait Bella! Can you come to the kitchen? Esme packed up some leftovers for Charlie," Edward asked forcefully, his eyes imploring me to come, leaving me no room to say no. I was startled by his interruption of my dark thoughts. I felt all the eyes in the room watch me as I forced my eyes to meet Edward's. He was holding out his hand, waiting for some sort of response, but I just stood there staring, allowing all the emotions to wash over me. On some level my body was still on a high level of panic, every muscle and organ coiled tightly. Yet, another part of me was managing to function. As if looking through a dark tunnel, I honed in on Edward's green eyes and ordered my legs to move toward them.

When his hand enclosed mine, I surrendered entirely, allowing him to lead me wherever he may. He placed his hand lightly on my lower back and led me to the kitchen, sitting me on the stool that he'd placed there for me earlier in the night.

"Bella," he said softly, holding his gaze on mine while swinging open the refrigerator door and pulling out a few plastic containers. He placed them on the counter next to me, studying my face as though trying to piece together a difficult puzzle. "I don't want you driving home in this condition."

I melted under his green-eyed stare, my need to escape and my desire to stay near Edward warring in my brain. I was both scared and charmed by his attention. He was so handsome and commanding that I simply couldn't find the words to respond. He kept staring, and I slowly came to understand that he was patiently waiting for me to compose myself, allowing me time to calm my mind, untangle my anxiety. I tried to focus on my breathing, his beautiful face drawing me out from the wall I was hiding behind. His eyes never wavered. They were narrow but warm, his brow furrowing in concern. _In concern for me_. I wasn't delusional though; I knew his interest in me was strictly medical and for once, I resented that he was my doctor and not something more.

"I know that Alice's words must have hurt you. And that you are probably a bit…overwhelmed," he said, as though searching for the right words. "I can tell that Alice really likes you, Bella. She doesn't make friends easily and I know she would never deliberately do anything to jeopardize your friendship."

"I know," I blurted, startling him with my raspy voice. I couldn't let him think that I blamed Alice for anything. It wasn't her fault that her words cut me to the core, laying bare all my insecurities. They were surprisingly apt, exposing the fantasy in my head for what it was. I didn't belong here.

"Bella, it's perfectly okay for you to feel the things that you're feeling. You really haven't had time to adequately…grieve…to process all these emotions that you have," he explained, putting on his doctor's hat. Though I disliked the distant, clinical lilt to his words, his authoritative tone convinced me to listen closely to his meaning. "Four distinct stages of grieving have been identified and you will probably experience them all in one way or another."

My curiosity was piqued by this fundamental statement, as if he could organize the pain in my mind like the colors in a box of crayons. "What…what are the stages?" I asked quietly, the rasp still apparent.

"Well, first there is numbness, which is simply a defense mechanism our mind creates to help us cope. Next, is the searching and yearning phase, where you simply wish for the person to return to their place in your life, or possibly revisit moments of your past. The next phase is when you begin to feel disorganized and you may begin to feel apathetic about life."

"Is that all?" I asked, calmed by Edward's voice and his simplified medical descriptions.

"No, there is one final stage…" he said, a tentative smile pulling up the corner of his lip into a crooked grin, "recovery."

"Recovery," I repeated breathily, wanting to hear how the word sounded coming from my lips. It all seemed so easy, like a travel itinerary or the list of ingredients for a recipe. All I had to do was follow these steps as if baking a cake, and then I'd recover. Simple. I was pondering this concept, my cynical nature preventing me from embracing the idea completely, when Edward reached out and grasped my hands.

I inhaled a labored breath, my fingers tingling with warmth. Everything else disappeared except for just us two. I could only concentrate on the feeling of his long fingers in mine as they lightly squeezed energy into my body. Anything seemed possible in that instant.

His eyes were narrowed in a look of concern that was now becoming familiar to me. "Please don't feel uncomfortable talking with me about these things. That's what I'm here for," he pleaded kindly in a tone that was decidedly not professional. "I want us to be friends and…" Alice shuffled into the kitchen dejectedly, her head lowered, interrupting Edward's words. He dropped his hands from mine, leaving me cold and bereft without his touch.

"Bella –" Alice said, not even noticing Edward's stiff posture as he excused himself. I stood up from the stool, feeling wobbly, but with a new resolve. I had faced a lot of horrible things in my short life and I'd always survived. I wasn't strong, but I was strong enough to keep going.

"No Alice, before you say anything…please, I don't want you to feel bad. I mean, I know you didn't mean to hurt me or anything. And you didn't…I'm just going through a lot right now. And well…if you like don't want to hang out or…"

"Bella! Stop. Please let me apologize. I'm so _so_ sorry. I know that I said something hurtful and I so didn't mean it! Please forgive me," she mumbled as tears begin to fall from her eyes. She didn't break down completely, but held herself together as she continued. "I still really want to be friends. I just feel something special about you, Bella, and I'd love it if you would still be my friend."

When she'd finished her speech, she stepped forward and hugged me. I threw my arms around her and pulled her to me as tightly as I could. "Of course I want to be your friend, Alice. You are so…so…just awesome. I don't think I could get through a day at school without you," I replied with as much passion as I could muster. I wiped away her few lingering tears, recognizing the irony in _me_ comforting _her_ now. But for the moment, my tears were all dried up.

* * *

End Notes:

So what do you guys think is up with Edward? Please review!!!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N:

I keep drinking coffee late at night and in my sleepy insanity, I feel compelled to write. Of course, this leaves my beta with a big mess. But she never complains! As always, ms_ambrosia, you are the greatest! I'm so glad that you're my beta!

Somehow even with a trip to Disneyland and a short visit from my childhood best friend, I still managed to pump this chapter out. In truth, I love this story and secretly (seriously, don't tell my husband!), I'd rather be writing it than doing almost anything. Here's another longish chapter for you. I hope you like it!

Thanks to all my new readers and also to you guys who have been there since the start! I really do read and appreciate each and every review, because it lets me know that you are out there and enjoying this tale I'm weaving.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I do not.

I wasn't sure how to interpret or react to Charlie's smug expression as he peered at me over the top of the newspaper. I averted my eyes to the breakfast on my plate, thoughtlessly nudging bits of scrambled egg from side to side with the tines of my fork.

"Bella?" Charlie prompted, drawing my eyes to his. "How was your night? With your friend? Um…did you have a good time?"

I pondered how to answer this question. Was it a good time? My night at the Cullen's was certainly illuminating, interesting, eye-opening, and emotionally jarring at times – but was it a _good_ time?

I nearly sprung out of bed this morning, my nerves still frazzled, my limbs still tingling with anxious energy from the previous night. I dressed quickly, not bothering to brush my hair, but pulling it into a messy knot instead. Fragments of images, touches, bits of conversation – _his words_ - from the night before kept filtering into my thoughts.

These thoughts were dangerous. They were filled with longing. _With dreams_.

I couldn't help but look around the plain, worn, cheap furnishings in my room, and throughout Charlie's house and see them lacking in a way that I never had before. I didn't like feeling sorry for myself. It never did me any good. But still, every now and then I had to wonder: _Why me? _Everything in my world was _less than_, devoid of beauty, of thought, of care.

And yet, Charlie had generously given me all he had to offer; which was so much more than I'd ever had before. And then to see that there is still so much that can be achieved in life. The Cullens represented everything to aim for – beauty, success, elegance, refinement, and happiness.

Rather than dwell on what I couldn't change, I thought about the small things that I could do. I could make my world better. I could paint bare walls, I could organize, and I could clean until my fingers bled. I was bursting with the need to do something, impatient to begin. I practically skipped down the stairs, bubbling with my newfound enthusiasm.

I pushed all my insecurities, my hesitancy to the back of my mind and locked it away. I ignored the cold floor of the kitchen tiles on my bare feet and the harshness of the lights as I flipped on the overhead lamp. I swallowed the small pangs of unfamiliarity as I struggled to remember where the spatulas were housed, and the wire whisk that I'd noted earlier was crammed in some drawer it shouldn't be.

It only took me a few tries before I'd found everything I needed to make breakfast. I arranged everything out on the counter – the cheese, eggs, toast and bacon. By the time Charlie stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, I had the bacon sizzling on the stove, the eggs scrambling in the pan with grated cheese spread on top. The second set of toast had just popped out of the toaster when I turned to find Charlie looking at me with shock on his face. His expression revealed much – he was perplexed, as though he still had moments where he forgot that I'd be there in his space, making my presence so overtly known.

As I stood there in front of him with a plate full of crackling bacon in my hands, he stared at me as if I were an apparition. There was still so much we had to learn about one another before we could interweave our lives naturally.

I was too focused to allow myself to spiral into a dark place of worry. Even if my presence was an imposition in his life, I had to get over it. I was used to being an imposition; Renee never let me forget. I quickly turned away from Charlie, busying my hands pouring two cups of coffee into the only two mismatched diner mugs in the cabinet. I didn't turn back around until I'd buttered our toast and plated our breakfasts, at the last minute sprinkling a dash of salt and pepper on the eggs.

I inhaled and spun around to face him with the dishes in my hands, hoping to wipe the hollow look off his face with my efforts at making something special of our morning. Instead of the wary, surprised look, I found Charlie in a relaxed pose, unfolding the sports section of the newspaper, his eyes eagerly searching for game stats. I smiled to myself, having earlier placed that specific section of the newspaper on the table, correctly guessing that it was the one he'd go to first. It was a small victory, and I felt a little flutter of pride in the notion.

When I placed the breakfast in front of Charlie, he didn't pull his eyes away from the paper, but grabbed his fork and blindly scooped up a bite of eggs. I sat down across from him, his face hidden behind his newspaper so I couldn't see his reaction to the food. I picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, reading random words on the back of his page.

"Thanks for breakfast," Charlie mumbled from the other side of the paper, and even though he wasn't looking at me, I was embarrassed by the blush that shot up my neck and flushed my face at his words.

"You're welcome," I answered, taking another bite of my bacon.

"So did you? Did you have a good time last night?" Charlie repeated.

"Yeah," I answered. "Actually dad…um…my friend Alice, her dad is Carlisle Cullen."

"Alice Cullen? You had dinner with the Cullens?" Charlie asked, dropping the paper and folding it next to his place so that I could see the interest sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes. At the Cullens."

"Well…that's interesting. They have a nice house out there, don't they?"

"It's really incredible. Esme sent some leftovers for you. They're in the fridge if you want them later."

"Well this fine breakfast you made should hold me off for a while," he responded, rubbing his hand over his belly with one hand while stabbing the last bite of eggs with his fork and swallowing them ceremoniously. "I appreciate all this Bella," Charlie said, waving his fork in the air to illustrate his point.

"No problem," I mumbled, rising to take our plates from the table and to the sink. Without facing him I began to speak, summoning every little bit of courage I could to broach the subject.

"Charlie?" I questioned, hoping to get his attention.

"Yep?"

"Would it be okay…well, would it be okay if I…um, rearranged some things in the kitchen and maybe a few other things around the house?" I asked quietly, cringing as I waited for his response.

"Um, sure. You do whatever you want. This is your house too," Charlie said offhandedly as he stood and walked out of the room, headed for the remote control and the couch in the living room.

I felt excitement swell within me in a way that I hadn't felt for a long time as I began to pull utensils out of drawers and place them on the counter top. Some time later, I had all the drawers and shelves empty, their contents spread out on the counters, the dining table and even on the chairs. I wiped out all the drawers and cabinets, even scrubbing the area under the sink and around the burners on the stovetop. I reorganized all the pots and pans, the silverware, the utensils, the dishes, the glasses, the knives, the casserole dishes, the cake and pie pans, the Tupperware, and the few odd pieces – pitchers, vases, serving dishes. I found places for each item in a spot that made sense to me and that seemed most appropriate. When I was done I scrubbed the counters and the floors, and wiped down the appliances.

With a spot of inspiration, I left one vase out on the windowsill above the sink. I grabbed some scissors that I recalled placing in one of the drawers, along with a pad of paper for making shopping lists, and other random items – pens, paperclips, a screwdriver, stamps, cup hooks, batteries and a random assortment of colorful rubber bands.

I ran outside into the damp mist and clipped a mixture of wildflowers that were growing without interruption in scattered clumps across the expanse of the front yard. I ran back inside, my heart expanding with the simple excitement of the task. I spent too much time arranging the wispy, colorful flowers in the vase, but I had never done it before and I wanted the bouquet to be as perfect as my inexpert hands could make it. There was something meaningful about this activity that I couldn't put my finger on, but I reveled in the small joy of the moment.

I spent the rest of the day shifting furniture around, moving pictures from one wall to another, dusting objects on the shelves and rearranging books on the bookshelves in the living room. I dedicated the entire afternoon going through the linen closet and doing an inventory of the sheets, blankets, towels and table linens. A few treasures revealed themselves – an antique floral tablecloth, with matching napkins that were only slightly stained.

I found even more surprises in the garage – a pair of brass candle holders, a huge topographical map of Washington, and three boxes full of old hardbound books. There were several volumes of poetry, nursery rhymes and a beautifully preserved set of classic novels. With delight, I pulled books by Chaucer, Shakespeare, Thackeray, Dickens, Hardy, Bronte, and Tolstoy from the box and cradled them lovingly in my arms as if they might crumble if handled too roughly.

I was constructing a sizable pile of items to bring inside the house when I noticed a lidded box shoved neatly under Charlie's work bench in the corner of the garage. I was drawn to the box, instantly feeling curious and an urgency to know its contents. I crawled through the dust on my hands and knees, sliding the box toward me, hesitating briefly in anticipation before peeling off the lid.

An involuntary gasp fell from my lips at the discovery, the air forcing its way out of my lungs in surprise. My hands reached out anxiously, my fingers trembling as I tugged on the edge of a silver framed photograph, wriggling it carefully out of the box. I barely recognized the couple in their wedding clothes, hands loosely clasped, broad smiles on their innocent faces. I angled the photograph into the light, peering closely at my mother, a happiness and optimism in her expression that rubbed me raw. I couldn't tear my eyes away. I felt as though my mind was searching for a memory, mining the moments of my past to a time when I had caught a glimpse of that look.

And then it came to me at once, as one massive wave of memories came crashing down upon me, almost suffocating me in their intensity. I remembered.

_I relished the feeling of the sand between my toes and the sun on my shoulders as Renee laced her fingers with mine and ran with wild abandon down the beach, trailing me in her wake. We giggled gleefully as the foamy water splashed against our ankles, chilling our unsuspecting feet. _

My mind flashed through the times of my life, consciously delving deeper, fraught to recall even a scrap of another good memory. The one that eased into my mind was nothing of real significance – just an ordinary day – but a genuinely good time, a happy time, a time not sullied by the heavy shadows that Renee so often carried.

_She made popcorn, slathering it in butter and a heaping spoonful of salt. I remembered its nutty smell, and the visceral pleasure of sucking the salt off of my greasy fingertips. We were watching _Grease_ on television. It was one of her favorite movies; her childhood crush on John Travolta surviving the stretch of the years, through his many bad movie choices, and his inevitable aging._

_We were curled up on the couch together, our knees touching, sharing a warm blanket. Each time a song came on Renee turned to me, a genuine smile on her face and began to sing along with Sandy and Danny and all the cast as they belted out the familiar ballads. Renee's enthusiasm was infectious. Though I resisted at first, she enticed me to sing along with her. Our voices grew louder, drowning out the characters on the screen. By the end credits, we'd shed the blanket and were on our toes dancing, swaying, holding hands. Our smiles were as wide as they ever were. _

I wished that I had known then that there would not be very many of these kinds of days in my young life. I hadn't yet known what the future would hold, and that it would deteriorate so quickly and easily. How was I to know that one quiet afternoon with my mom, when she was happy and sober and carefree, would be as significant of a memory as it was?

I put the picture aside and examined the rest of the box. There were other photos of my parents, a few of Charlie when he was a young man. I was surprised at how handsome he appeared, so confident and ready to face the world. It wasn't too hard to reconcile these photos with who he was now – he wasn't too changed by time – maybe more rugged, less eager. There were also a few loose pictures of me as a baby. I hadn't seen many of these; Renee didn't cart much around. In fact when she died, all her possessions were crammed into one small box. I hadn't looked in there yet. As I thought of this, I realized I'd had enough of reminiscing. I was emotionally bereft, drained.

My shoulders hunched, I started hauling my finds into the house and placing them in significant spots, filling the empty spaces, the cold corners. I ran my fingers over the spines of the large volumes of the classic novels, sliding Charles Dickens' _Great Expectations_ off the shelf and taking it up to my room with me.

A quick glance at the clock showed me that I only had a few hours before I was supposed to walk over to the party at Laurent's house. As this realization set in, so did my nerves. I was glad that I'd kept myself busy for the better part of the day and my mind was preoccupied. Now that I was alone in my room with only my book for company, I couldn't tamp down my anxiety. My entire body was humming with it, as though on high alert.

I was beginning to think of this party as a sort of rite of passage, as a form of social initiation that was necessary. I didn't want to go, but I knew that I needed to go, if just to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid, that I could function like a normal teenager. I'd spent the day shaping a place for myself in my new world, claiming my new life. Tonight I would continue to forge a path for myself. I just hoped I found the right path, one that would lead me to where I should be.

I certainly felt like a normal teenager as I attempted to get ready for the night. Who knew that it could be so difficult to choose an outfit or to style my hair into something more glamorous than the less than lifeless look it normally had. Renee had never showed me how to put on make-up or gave me pointers on how to dress. I usually went for comfort over any kind of style in my clothes, always gravitating toward blacks, and grays and the least attention grabbing outfits I could find.

I couldn't believe that I found myself standing in front of my bed trying to decide which of my three pairs of jeans were the most flattering or which of my hoodies looked best with my gray tank top. I finally picked an outfit, throwing it on quickly before I could change my mind. I scurried to the bathroom to put on some make-up before leaving. To the best of my ability, I simply copied what Alice had done to my eyes the night before with my cheap drug store make-up. I was almost happy with the way I looked – a better version of my usual plain self.

Charlie wasn't home to send me out, to reiterate his rules or offer any parental guidance. I had come to realize that previously having no other responsibilities, he took all the least desirable shifts at work, often working at night and on the weekends. I didn't mind the time alone; I was familiar with loneliness.

I wrapped my hoodie tightly around me, my arms crossed protectively across my chest as I skulked down the street toward the address James had given me.It was still misting, as if the sky was perpetually thicker and wetter here than other places. I felt the dampness settle on my hair and along my shoulders as I paraded forward. It was a little past eight at night and I wondered if I was too early or too late. I wished for the umpteenth time that I knew what to expect and that the unknown wasn't so frightening.

My feet continued to move me in the right direction whether I wanted them to or not and all too soon I was standing in front of a non-descript cream-colored house. It was clearly the most ramshackle of all the houses on the street, with paint peeling off the moss covered façade, shutters hanging crookedly off their hinges. The metal awning over the porch was concave as if a meteor crashed into it. It looked as though it might fall off any minute and I hesitated to approach the front door for fear of being crushed.

I stood in front of the porch for several minutes, the muffled sound of music and voices from inside threatening to break my resolve. I rocked on the balls of my feet, almost convinced that I should turn and head home when the door swung open and I stood face to face with Victoria.

"Hey Vicky, is it raining out there yet?" someone yelled from inside. Without turning her gaze from mine she answered back.

"No, it's just fucking damp, like always," she answered, stepping out onto the front step and swinging the door shut behind her.

"Want one?" she asked, a cigarette dangling from her long fingers.

"Uh, no thanks," I answered, drawing my arms even tighter around me. I was slightly relieved by Victoria's presence; at least there was one person who I vaguely knew here. I felt compelled to stand with her while she smoked, though for some reason the acrid aroma from her cigarette made me feel queasy and I began to shiver nervously.

"You made it," she said plainly, stating the obvious.

"Yeah," I responded, filling the silence.

"So, did you invite Jacob to come with you?" she asked, startling me with her bluntness.

"I…I didn't know that I could invite someone," I answered lamely, embarrassed that I failed yet again to know what is normal in these kinds of situations.

"Well yeah. I mean who would care, right?"

"Uh, I didn't know how big of a party…or well…" I stammered. She cut me off with a gesture of her arm, sending a billowing cloud of cigarette smoke in my direction. I wanted to wave it away from my face, but I didn't want to offend perhaps the only other girl I knew at this party. I turned my head to the side and took a deep breath of cool air, squinting my eyes against the pungent burn before turning back to her.

"Well, too bad you didn't bring him. There are only a few cute guys here," she said factually, but didn't mask the disappointment on her face. She lazily flicked her cigarette into the front yard, the burning filter sizzling on the wet grass.

"Come on, let's go in," she beckoned me to follow as she opened the door and, seeing no way of turning back, I grasped the edge of the door, stepping in behind her and inside of the house.

The first thing I noticed was several paper bags propped up haphazardly along the wall of the hallway, all crammed full of empty beer cans and bottles which were spilling out of the tops, balanced in a teetering precarious stack. A deep, pounding rhythm reverberated through the walls, getting progressively louder as we travelled down the long hallway, snippets of angry lyrics assaulting my senses, vibrating as though inside my skull.

My eyes were fixated on the back of Victoria's head, her red curls bouncing as she walked, the unique and vibrant color shimmering in the glow from the overhead light fixture. I didn't notice when she stopped and stumbled awkwardly into her. She rotated, glaring at me angrily. She must have read the fear on my face because her expression instantly softened and she stretched her face into a strained smile which I'm sure she meant to be reassuring. Though forced on her part, I clung to the small shred of compassion she was extending, silently absorbing what little comfort she gave me.

When she turned away and focused on someone else, I finally allowed myself to look around, silently taking in the environment. The energy in the room was heavy and the music was beating a loud rhythm that shook the thin walls and seemed to pulse through me like the blood in my veins. The music was so invasive that talking was nearly impossible. The handful of people scattered throughout the place, reclined on the furniture or lounging on the floors, were either engrossed by the music or were struggling to shout above it in a way that was exaggerated and essentially cartoonish.

The music itself was like a wall around me – its assault on my senses – like a form of protection from the other warm bodies in the room who looked on me with a only a vague kind of interest. The lights were dim, making it difficult to see faces and expressions with any distinction. The whole effect was numbing, and I felt some of my trepidation slip away.

I tried to scan the room undetected, heady smoke stinging my eyes as they catalogued the familiar faces of several nameless students I'd noticed at school. I could see the flick of a lighter and snapped my vision to a wan looking girl with stringy, blond hair passing a burning joint to the guy she was sitting next to on the floor. He was leaning against the arm of the couch, his head resting against the cushion as though asleep. But his hand shot out and grasped the joint, his eyes opening warily as he expertly sucked in his cheeks and inhaled.

I had briefly considered that there might be some kind of drugs and alcohol at this party and was prepared to face it as indifferently as I could. I wasn't naïve; I had inadvertently observed Renee and her guy friends dabbling in many different forms of illegal substances and I was practiced in pretending that it didn't bother me. I could pretend that almost anything didn't bother me for a while.

As I looked around for them, I thought that it was highly likely that Laurent, James, and Victoria had found themselves in similarly depraved situations with their degenerate parents.

Rather than being caught gawking at the activities happening around me I decided to move. I carefully put one hesitant foot in front of the other, and walked toward the opening to an adjacent room where I could see more people milling around with drinks in their hands. I noticed Victoria immediately. She was sitting on a card table that was pushed against the wall next to a large bowl of potato chips and a cluster of empty beer bottles.

She was talking animatedly over the music to a girl who stood next to her with her legs spread in a flirtatious stance, one hand resting on her hip. She exuded confidence and I couldn't help but stare at the short skirt that was riding up her thighs and the tight black halter top that exposed the entirety of her back.

After a few minutes of staring intently, I saw James stalk in her direction, his hand sneaking out to run across her shoulder. When she turned her head to yell at him for the intrusion I recognized the girl's sharp nose and close-set eyes. Lauren caught me looking at her and I slowly and reluctantly made my way in her direction. Her head fell back in casual, easy laughter at something that Victoria said, making me feel instantly alienated, an imposter.

"What's your name again?" Lauren asked in a loud, harsh voice as I shuffled forward.

"Her name's Bella, bitch," Victoria answered in an equally shrill tone, throwing her arm over my shoulder as if we'd become close friends. I couldn't stop my jaw from falling open in shock at her gesture. This was the second time she'd defended me, shielding me from Lauren's malevolence. I had no idea what I'd done to warrant such devotion from her, but I was appreciative.

"Oh well, I'm probably not going to remember your name. I mean, it's not like we're going to be friends or anything," she said, looking away and not meeting my eyes. "I'm getting another beer. Later." She placed her empty bottle on the table next to Victoria and stalked away to the kitchen where there was a big cooler full of drinks.

"Wanna beer?" Victoria asked and I noticed for the first time that the volume of the music had been adjusted to a talking level. My ears were actually ringing, my hearing dulled.

"Okay," I answered, thinking I might fit in better with a bottle in my hands whether I was going to drink it or not. She walked off purposefully toward the cooler, reaching in and grabbing a few beers. I watched her take a bottle opener from another girl when I heard my name from across the room.

"Hey Bella!" Laurent, who was standing with a group of older looking guys saw me and crossed the room to say hello. "I'm so glad you made it," he said sincerely, poking his tongue piercing out as he talked. "More people showed up than I thought. Which is cool, right? I mean it's the last party I'm probably gonna have for a while," he lamented and for a moment I sensed a shadow of darkness fall over him. He shrugged it off, his face breaking into a smile.

"Damn, I need a joint," he mumbled thoughtlessly. "Do you smoke, Bella? I mean, do you get high?" he asked.

"No thanks," I replied quietly. Victoria approached with the open beer, thrusting it in my hands before walking off to the other room purposefully. Laurent spoke again and I tore my eyes away from Victoria's retreating form, turning my attention reluctantly back to him.

"You sure you don't want to get high?" he paused, waiting for confirmation.

"I'm sure," I replied, holding up my beer, hoping it would appease him.

"Well okay, I'm going to go find some shit to smoke cause I'm way too sober and this is my fucking party." With a forced enthusiasm he began to search the room. He caught the attention of the group of guys that he'd been talking to earlier and waved them over. A few of the older looking guys approached and as they closed in I felt my heart rate accelerate with anxiety. There was something dangerous and dodgy about these guys that unsettled me. The muscles in my shoulders tensed, my arms wrapping tightly across my chest.

I looked around for Victoria, but she had disappeared. I was alone with Laurent when I was all of a sudden surrounded by a wall of men, at the center of their unsolicited attention.

"These are some of my brother's friends, Felix and Demetri," Laurent whispered in my ear, invading my senses with his beer-laced breath.

"Hey man, who's this?" the overly muscular, shorter one asked, throwing his arm around Laurent's shoulder as if he might fall otherwise. His glazed eyes washed over me greedily, hungrily, shamefully. I took a step backwards instinctively, feeling instantly threatened.

"This is Bella," Laurent introduced me, his hand jolting out to graze my shoulder. He shifted toward them, extending his hand, "This is Demetri," he pointed to the shorter guy. "And this huge dude is Felix." I nervously risked a glance at Felix who was the more intimidating of the two with his broad shoulders and stoic, angular face. Unlike Demetri, who was openly menacing, Felix was so staid and impassive it was impossible to tell what he was thinking or what his motivation was.

"Dude, you guys have some more weed?" Laurent asked, leaning in closely to Demetri. I looked away so that it appeared that I wasn't interested in their exchange. Demetri stepped forward and whispered something in Laurent's ear. Laurent nodded and walked away, leaving me alone with the two largest, oldest, shadiest and most intimidating guys in the house.

"Hey Felix, we should get Bella a fresh beer, don't you think?" Demetri asked when Laurent was out of ear shot. He didn't pose this as a question; it was more as if he were ordering Felix to carry out an order. There seemed to be something underhanded implied in his words and as they involved me I became even more unsettled in their presence. Felix didn't respond to Demetri, but made as if to carry out his suggestion.

I panicked, reaching out and grabbing Felix's arm before thinking, blurting, "No…no thank you. I'm fine." I pulled my hand away quickly, realizing what I'd done.

"No problem, pretty girl," Felix drawled in a deep voice, smiling unctuously at me, his cold façade instantly melting away. "I'll get you a cookie," he said without giving me a chance to decline, and marched off to the kitchen. I stood uncomfortably alone with Demetri, my sweaty hands nervously peeling the label off the beer bottle in my hands while my mind struggled to come up with an escape route.

Felix returned shortly, a perfectly normal looking chocolate chip cookie in his hand. He handed it to me with a toothy grin and I couldn't help thinking that I preferred his stoic demeanor to his creepy friendliness. I had taken a few token, cringe-worthy sips of my beer at this point which left a horrible, sour taste in my mouth. I welcomed the sweet taste of the cookie as it washed the beer flavor away. I avoided the eager gazes of Demetri and Felix as I finished the cookie. I was wiping the crumbs from my lips with the back of my hand when Felix retrieved another cookie from the kitchen.

I was finishing up my third cookie, no longer suspicious of the two guys who were doting on me. In fact, I felt downright relaxed, my body automatically swaying to the music, feeling the techno beat deep in my chest. I tried to scan the room for familiar faces, but all the faces blurred together, the colors in the room making a trail of rainbows in my vision. I looked into the light and it pulsed at me, swirling into a spiral. I reached out my hand to touch the rhapsodic mosaic of mingled lights and colors, but all my hand felt was a rough arm.

I tried to move forward, but my legs wouldn't cooperate as if my shoelaces were tied together. I had this errant thought and bent to check if they were indeed tied together when I lost my balance and stumbled toward the floor. Someone yanked me upward and I collided with something hard and unyielding. I looked up into Felix's oily face and tried with difficulty to jog my memory. What was I thinking? I had a muddled notion that I needed to get away and also that I needed to pee, but felt like my body was rubber and I had no control over it.

I held onto the idea of escape and perhaps trying to find the bathroom. I pulled vainly on my arm, wrestling against the iron grip of Felix. Again I turned my head away and fought with the little control I had to focus my vision and find some way out of this. Just as my eyes latched onto a head of fiery red hair I felt my legs fall out from under me as an arm clamped painfully around my waist and began to move me farther away.

Even in the fuzzy haze I was suffering from my survival instinct somehow kicked in and my mouth struggled to form a word. "Vic…" I slurred as loudly as I could. At first I thought that maybe I hadn't made a noise at all, but then she turned and saw me. I wasn't entirely sure what happened next because my body dropped to the floor where I flopped around like a fish out of water trying to breathe. When my head finally lifted, my eyes thankfully landed on Victoria's face. The fear in her expression frightened me anew, but then I remembered I had to pee.

"Bthrmmm…" I moaned at her, feeling like my lips were swollen and non-functioning. She nodded though and half dragged, half carried me to the bathroom. Once we were there I felt her bony hands poking me under my armpits and tried to help her lift my limp body to the toilet seat. Somehow between the both of us we managed to get me onto the seat and my pants down. I relieved my bladder with relief, all the while propping myself up against the cold wall so that I wouldn't slip to the ground.

Victoria helped me pull my underwear and jeans back up while my head bobbed around on my neck, the world spinning on its axis around me. Victoria was speaking at me as she placed her hands back under my armpits to lower me to the ground, but I couldn't make out her words. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried to focus my thoughts I could only concentrate on one thing at a time – the hardness of the wall, the pretty red of her hair, the cottony taste in my mouth, the hum of her indistinguishable words.

I had my eyes closed, hypnotized by the constant spinning of the room, when I felt a cool cloth pressed against my head. I was consumed by the idea of trying to stop the spinning when Victoria's voice broke through my concentration.

"Bella! Bella! Bella!" She was shaking me by the shoulders, only making the spinning worse. I wanted her to stop; the spinning was making me sick. I could feel it deep down it my stomach where the gyrating became too much for me to bear.

"Help…sick," I uttered with effort, scrambling for the toilet moments before I expelled the contents of my stomach. I heard mumbling as I slumped back down to the bathroom floor and recognized that Victoria was speaking again. I felt the cool cloth on my head and knew I had to focus on her words.

"Shit shit shit," she repeated. I opened my eyes and looked directly at her.

"Thank god," she squeaked. "Can you hear me, Bella?"

"Uh…yes," I said surprisingly clearly and she brightened at my words.

"Do you have a cell or something? Do you have someone to call? Should I call your dad?" she rambled and I wakened slightly at her last question.

"No," I murmured through my funny lips. "No dad," I clarified.

"God Bella, what are we going to do? What did you take? Those guys are bad news."

My eyelids felt so heavy I wanted so badly to close them again, but I knew I should keep them open and I didn't want the room to start spinning again. I tried to process Victoria's words, but they were jumbled in my brain. I felt as though I had to string them together with a needle and thread, stitching them into some type of coherent thought.

One of her words resonated in my mind and I remembered something. Before I even realized I was doing it, I reached into the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out my cell phone. I tried to lift my arm, but before I could, Victoria snatched the phone out of my hand and examined it, skillfully zipping through the information until she found what she wanted.

"You only have one number?" she asked incredulously, but I was mute, still trying to figure out the answer to her question when she was already calling someone. I closed my eyes for a second when I heard Victoria's voice in the background.

"Damn, I got voicemail. Is Alice's number the only one you have? Is there anyone else?" she asked, her voice seeming frantic. "Bella! Don't close your eyes." She shook me again and I tried to push myself up higher against the wall. "I'm gonna try again, okay?" she said with the phone to her ear.

"Oh hi. No, this isn't Bella. Is this Alice's phone? Well, where is she? Oh, um…do you think she could come pick up Bella? Yeah, well…she's kinda sick. I don't know. We're at a party and I think she took something. Um…at Laurent's house. I'm kinda worried, you know? So tell Alice…Hello? Hello? Damn, he hung up." She reached down and shoved the phone back into my pocket.

Victoria began to pace the room nervously as I fought against the urge to close my eyes. Just as I was thinking of taking a nap, there was an urgent rap on the door. "Anyone in there?" someone barked through the door.

"Shit, let's get out of here," Victoria said, reached down and tugging on my arm. Even though I still felt like my legs were made of Jello, I didn't want to stay on the bathroom floor forever. I somehow summoned enough strength to crawl my way up Victoria's body to a standing position. I have no idea how we made it all the way through the house to door, but I found myself sitting on the bottom step in the damp front yard, leaning my head against the rusted iron railing.

A car pulled up in front of the house, honking impatiently and though my body jumped, it barely registered at all in my brain. Victoria's face was all of a sudden in my vision and I wondered at the concern in her expression.

"Bella, that's my mom. I've gotta go. I'll get in trouble if I bring you in the car. I think Alice is coming anyway, okay?" I wasn't entirely sure what she said, but I nodded. She shot me one last worried glance before walking away. I clung to the cold iron bar, feeling the moisture in the air as if it were an icy blanket draped over me.

I kept my eyes open, sensing in some way that it was important. Still I clung to the iron bar as if it was equally important. Time must have passed, but I couldn't be sure. I felt hollow and very dizzy and for a few moments I threw around the idea of trying to stand and walk home. I was trying to plan how I was going to do this, how I would grab the railing and push with my legs at the same time when I heard tires squealing to a stop.

I tightened my grip. I heard footsteps. Click click clack. Hold on. Don't let go. Keep eyes open.

"Bella!" he said. Huh?

I looked up and tilted my head and there he was. Edward. He gazed down at me. Was he angry? His brows were furrowed. He squatted, reaching out to me.

"Bella? Let me take you home. Can you let go of the railing?" I felt his warm hand on mine, peeling my numb fingers from the iron. His hand grazed my cheek and I had distinct sensation that my hair was being caressed, but I could have imagined it.

Hands moved over my body and lifted me. He pushed me gently forward and my legs tried to cooperate, but I stumbled. Next thing I knew I was floating, my feet dangling. My head fell forward and I deeply inhaled the spicy, clean scent of Edward. I instantly felt better and knew that I was going to be okay.

He dropped me into the passenger seat of his car, closing the door before running around to get into the driver's side. I craned my throbbing head toward him, openly ogling his striking profile as he started the car and pulled out into the street. Only one thought consumed me. Edward. He was here. It was like magic. And he was beautiful…an angel.

"You're beautiful," I said. I dropped my head to the window, finally succumbing to the drugs in my system, and closed my eyes.

End Notes:

Just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading and leaving such thoughtful comments! I love to hear what you guys think and I always try to respond! So what do you guys think of this chapter? Was Bella naïve?

I based this party on a very dodgy party that I once went to when I was younger (it was actually even shadier, with scarier guys.) I actually found myself in a lot of pretty risky situations when I was young and I seriously believe that it is only sheer luck that I got myself out of some of them. Don't you just think you know everything when you're sixteen?

I am truly drawn to the darker stories, and if you're like me, here are a few recommendations:

Ghosts by iwannabe – the storyline of this fic is so intriguing! You'll be hooked from the very beginning. I enjoy the depiction of an older Bella, whose life is shaped by horrible tragedy. I also love Alice as a record store owner.

Loner by Nilla – wow – a truly screwed up, damaged Edward, but a really gripping story. You're constantly wondering if Bella can save the boy that seems thoroughly beyond repair.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N:

I had so many fantastic reviews and responses for the last chapter. It seems like a lot of us found ourselves in some pretty sketchy situations when we were younger. I'm so thankful we all made it out of adolescence unscathed (well, mostly.)

I have to especially thank my beta, ms. ambrosia, not just for being a great beta, but for recommending this story all over the place. And she's been a little overwhelmed lately so I appreciate that she still finds time to polish up my story so it's all pretty and readable.

Thank you so much to all my faithful readers! I so appreciate you and your support: VampiresHaveLaws, iwannabe, SleepMyBella, Pyejammies, EverlastingMuse, SugarVenom, rtexas, and so many others who have left me such wonderful and inspiring reviews! I really do appreciate each and every one of you!

One more: thank you to nowforruin, my new validation beta, who has been really great!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

Enough already – get to the reading…

Shedding Guilt

I was dreaming of butterflies. They were fluttering around my arms, my face, and landing on my head. They tickled me, soft little pinpricks of sensation against my skin. More and more butterflies surrounded me, enveloping me, flapping their elegant rainbow wings against me. I was running with them; they encased me like a second skin, their soft wings beating and thrumming like another heartbeat. The tingling kept increasing, kept intensifying until it was almost painful.

"Bella!" It was Edward. He was calling me. I searched for him, but the butterflies were obscuring my vision.

"Edward!" I called, anxious to see him, reaching my arm out to touch him.

"Bella!" he yelled again and I saw him in the distance, running toward me. There was a bald eagle on his shoulder, its talons curled around his collar bone while its majestic wings stretched outward – either in warning or welcome – I wasn't sure.

I sucked in a sharp, hot breath in awe. Edward with the gorgeous bird of prey somehow seemed so fitting. The eagle opened its golden beak and focused its black beady eyes on me and cawed, "Bella!"

I awoke with a start, sitting up strait in my seat so that my head pulsed angrily at me. It was like my brain had come loose and was rattling around inside my skull and no matter how still I sat, I couldn't get it to stop. My arms and legs were slowly coming to life as though they'd been wedged under a heavy load. I fought the overwhelming urge to shake them out and relieve the tingling ache, knowing instinctively that my throbbing head couldn't take the movement.

"Bella," soft lips whispered again, a gentle hand in my hair. I rotated my head just slightly and peeled my eyes open. Thankfully, it was dark in the car, but I could still see the flash of his green eyes, the moonlight illuminating the upper planes of his sharp cheekbones and his strong forehead.

"Edward?" I questioned, breathily, my senses slowly returning while my head continued to spin, as though not attached to my shoulders. I felt his fingers tangle in my hair at the nape of my neck, lightly tugging and couldn't quite believe that it was real. I thought that it was entirely possible that I was still dreaming, but regardless, I focused all my energy on the slow dance of his fingers in my hair, his seductive touch on my sensitive scalp, drinking in the intensity of the moment.

And then as soon as it started, it was over. His hand was in his lap, his eyes faced forward. He inhaled deeply, dropping his head as though resigned to a sad fate. I watched as his entire demeanor changed dramatically before my eyes. He lost all his softness, his lips pursed in a flat line, and his body straightened in his seat, both hands rising to grip the steering wheel.

"Bella," he said in his clinical voice. "We should get you home now."

The pain and aches throughout my body all of a sudden came to the forefront. What had happened to me? I could only remember flashes of the night, little scraps of memories. Victoria's red hair spontaneously popped into my mind, her bouncing curls, leering faces, beer, and cookies. I vaguely remembered being dragged around, carried and shifted like my legs were broken, but the details were entirely lost to me. I couldn't recall how I'd gotten from the bathroom floor to Dr. Cullen's car. I felt very numb, but I knew that this feeling too would fade and later on I would feel the full weight of the night.

Edward turned the key in the ignition and I realized for the first time since waking that we were parked somewhere in the darkness. I wondered how long I had been sleeping and if he'd been watching me the entire time. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden and the insecurity sobered me quickly. I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to wipe away the sluggish haze I was suffering from.

As we approached an area with street lights, I looked over at Edward's profile and felt ashamed and panicked. What had I said to him last night and what did he think of me now? I had a vague recollection of telling him that he was beautiful. I blushed hotly, my body reacting with a bout of nearly painful shivers. It felt as if a battle was being waged under my skin.

I imagined that to Edward, I must have seemed even younger and more naïve than I had before. I was mortified. I looked down, twisting my fingers in my lap. Edward glanced at me, catching my eye and he must have sensed how fragile my emotions were, because he all of a sudden relaxed his pose, worry in his eyes.

"Are you feeling okay? Are you going to be sick?" he asked.

"I think I'm okay," I answered with little conviction.

The streets were starting to look more familiar and I was plagued with a new onslaught of fears. I realized that I actually had a parent now who might be angry or concerned that I wasn't home yet. "What time is it?" I asked, my sluggish gaze futilely searching the dash for a clock.

"Um, its 2:30," he answered.

"Oh." I tried to do the math, to figure out how long we'd been driving, but it was all so hazy. I wasn't sure when I'd left the party, but I think that several hours had passed. Where did they go? Edward somehow knew what I was thinking and quashed my fears.

"Don't worry, I passed by the police station a little while ago and your dad was still there. I almost took you to the hospital, but after checking your vitals, I decided not to. I thought I'd drive around for a bit until you came to. I…well…I wanted to make sure you were okay."

His words washed over me, thrilling me, squeezing my heart. He cared for me. Enough to drive me around for hours to make sure I was okay.

Silence settled over us, pregnant with meaning. In the faint light I could just make out the outline of Edward's strong arms, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up his forearms, revealing the light peppering of hair that faded at the elegant bend of his wrist. His long fingers were restless, playing the steering wheel, grinding and wrapping themselves around the circle anxiously. The tension coiled around my spinal cord, stiffening all my achy joints.

I felt hot and nauseous, my body battling whatever substance that was swimming through my blood stream. I pushed the button on the door, lowering the window and relishing the caress of the cool, wet air on my face. I sucked in a healing breath, allowing my mind to open a little wider. As I closed the window, I gathered the courage to ask the question that I could no longer avoid - the most pressing question of all, the one that had been haunting my subconscious since his silky voice first penetrated my dream. I cleared my voice awkwardly, trying to focus my eyes on the passing landscape, but the motion of the car only made me dizzier.

"Why am I in your car? I don't understand…" I said, unable to finish my thought.

"Someone called Alice's phone," he answered, as if his brief statement explained everything.

"Why didn't she come to get me then?"

"She and Jasper had already gone to bed. Tonight was their last night together before he leaves this morning. She left her phone in the kitchen. I heard it ringing, but I didn't want to disturb them. When I saw your name flash on the screen and I realized how late it was, I thought it might be important," he shrugged and turned to smile sheepishly at me. I melted into the seat even deeper than I already was.

"So, I answered. I wasn't sure who I talked to, but she seemed pretty upset and worried about you." He turned his head again to meet my eyes. "Bella, she said that you were drugged. Do you remember how it happened? Who did this to you?"

"Please don't…I mean I don't know…Can we just pretend it didn't happen?" I stuttered, begging, immediately panicked, but not really knowing what I wanted or needed.

"Bella, you could have gotten hurt. Someone could have taken advantage of you. And this is not just about you. If there's some guy out there drugging young girls…" he sighed with anguish and frustration. "You can't just let this go! Your father is going to want to know what happened!" he said with so much passion that I was thoroughly silenced.

"Please Edward…Dr. Cullen…" I stumbled through my words. He interrupted.

"Just Edward tonight, Bella."

"Edward," I repeated tentatively. "Please don't tell Charlie anything yet. He'll just…I don't know…I'm not ready to tell him, okay? I mean…I just don't want him to think that this is normal for me. You know…that it's my fault-"

"Bella, this isn't your fault," he said and placed his hand on mine. His touch sent an immediate explosion of energy surging through my body, heat flaring up from my arm to my torso and my face. I was relieved that the darkness masked the predictable flush of red that inevitably stained the surface of my skin.

He seemed to sense his effect on me though because he pulled his hand away, returning it to its stranglehold on the steering wheel.

"I won't say anything," Edward promised as he pulled into the driveway at the front of my house, turning off the car. "But Bella, Charlie will understand. He cares about you. I…We all care about you," he said, not breaking his steady gaze out the windshield, his hands not relaxing their iron grip. Just as his words were starting to take shape in my mind, beginning to have meaning, his door whipped open and he got out.

My heart slammed against my chest, my stomach gurgling ominously in reaction to the quick motion. The car all of a sudden seemed too still, too stifling. My door opened and I took a hasty breath, the cold air making me shiver. I hardly reacted to the feeling of Edward's hands on my arm, easing me out of the car, because all of my focus was now on trying to move my body without surrendering to the roiling, churning sensation in my stomach.

Heavily leaning on Edward's body, his hands tugging me forward, I took two labored steps toward the house. On the third step everything fell apart. My shivers turned into full-fledged convulsions, the churning in my stomach became tidal waves, and the throbbing in my head intensified so that I snapped my eyes shut and bent over. I only distantly recognized that Edward was holding onto my waist, because I didn't fall on my head.

Unable to hold it back any longer, I let out a disgusting, garbled belching sound and vomited onto the edge of the driveway. I couldn't believe that there was still anything left in my stomach, but just when I came up for air, I buckled in half, and violently heaved again. I did this several more times before my body had finally decided that it had had enough.

I was beyond being mortified. I had just vomited _several times _in front of the most gorgeous man on earth, the man who starred in all my dreams and fantasies. His long, elegant piano fingers were clamped around my hip, not out of passion, but to keep me from falling into my puke. I had at some point gripped his other hand tightly in my sweaty hand, not out of affection, but because I needed something to brace myself on.

When I finally felt like I could move without further embarrassment, I straightened. I hoped with all my shriveled heart that I didn't have vomit in my hair or even worse, on my face. But there was no way I could wipe at either as Edward tightened his grip on me, sidestepping around the repulsive mess I'd made and led me up to the doorway to my house. The door was unlocked and we shuffled our way inside, Edward supporting my weight as my hands and legs trembled in weakness.

"Do you want me to take you to your room?" Edward asked in a soft tone as if talking to a troubled child. I shook my head and felt tears drip from my chin.

"Can you just take me to the bathroom? I need to take a bath," I explained pathetically, my clammy hand slipping in his. "Upstairs," I gestured with my eyes. Even this small motion made my head throb painfully.

I didn't have the strength to feel embarrassed any longer. I just wanted to get clean and to climb into bed. I briefly noted how strong Edward felt against my body as we scaled the stairs together, but most of my concentration was dedicated to lifting one foot after another as methodically as I could.

When we got to the top of the stairs, I led us to the bathroom and his fingers flexed, slightly loosening their grip on my hip. I slipped my hand out his and pushed the door open, flipping on the light switch. I dropped my eyes from the light, wincing.

"I should leave now," he said, releasing me so that I was propped against the sink. "Are you going to be okay from here on out?" he asked, his hand lightly grazing my shoulder.

"Yeah," I croaked doubtfully, but then reiterated it with more certainty. "I'll be okay." Before I could properly react, he stepped through the doorway, closed the door and was gone. I slumped forward, leaning heavily into the sink and peered meekly into the mirror. I looked pale and tired and like I'd been to hell and back. There were dark circles under my bloodshot eyes, make-up smudged at their edges. Thankfully, I seemed to somehow have managed not to get vomit in my hair or on my face, but I could smell it on me. I balked at my reflection, disgusted in myself.

I drew my gaze away from the mirror, down to the cool porcelain under my fingers, and reached down to drag my hoodie off my arms. I left it in a heap on the floor, soon followed by my shirt and jeans. I was just about to pull out the faucet handle to start filling the tub with the hot water when I heard a noise outside. Thinking it was Charlie, I disregarded the weakness in my limbs and my nakedness, and ran to the window to look out over the front of the house.

I hid behind the curtains and looked down toward the driveway curiously. It wasn't Charlie, but Edward. Instead of rushing off like he should have – I wouldn't have even questioned it – he stayed. He must have searched the side of the house in the darkness to find the hose that was coiled there. His shoes were probably sodden and covered in mud now. I didn't understand why he did it, but he was there with the hose in his hands, washing the evidence of my embarrassment away.

I watched for several minutes before I realized that the bathtub was probably full. I was still hiding behind the sheer curtain, about to peel my eyes away, but took one last glance to find Edward gazing up at my window. My heart jumped and I ran to the bathroom as fast as my legs would take me, for the moment entirely ignoring what I'd been through, and that my body was barely functioning.

As I closed the bathroom door behind me one tortured thought took possession over my mind. _He saw me_. The curtains in my bedroom were very sheer and with the light coming from the inside were probably almost transparent. I slid down the wall onto the cold floor, my body shuddering with the shocking realization. Could it be possible that I had unintentionally flashed the man who was not only the subject of all my romantic fantasies, but was also my doctor, and my friend's older brother with a blatantly clear view of my nude silhouette?

I slept away the better part of Sunday, waking a few times in the morning just to roll back over and slip into a deep slumber again. My dreams were complex and incomprehensible. At one point I was in therapy, but Alice was there instead of Edward and then I was fishing with Charlie, but instead of a boat we were floating in a bathtub. Each time I closed my eyes I hoped that my dreams would make more sense, but they continued to confound me.

I finally awoke in the early afternoon and looked over at the clock in surprise. I decided that I should at least try to salvage the rest of the day. My head was no longer throbbing, but there was a dull ache behind my eyes that intensified every time I turned my head or looked down. I shuffled my way to the bathroom; the clothes I took off last night still sat in a pile on the floor. Charlie must have simply ignored them, stepping around them when he used the toilet or brushed his teeth. The thought irritated me and I scooped them up, embarrassed, causing a sharp, stabbing pain to tug on the back of my eyeballs.

Something hard tucked in the middle of the dirty laundry in my arms caught my attention and I rifled through the layers of fabric to find the smooth metal edge of my phone. I looked down at it with some confusion, still not used to owning such an object. I flipped it open automatically, my eyes widening in surprise at the screen. I had three messages. I pushed the button to check.

They were all from Alice, of course, since she was the only one who had my phone number. I listened to her messages, the heaviness of the events of the evening before hitting me all at once. I sat down on the edge of my bed and listened to her first frantic voicemail. She was practically yelling, panicked, and rambled, repeating something about last night, praying that I was okay. She kept talking until my phone cut her off.

The next few messages were almost worse. I could tell that she was genuinely upset. She threatened to come over to my house to check on me, told me that she would never talk to me again if I didn't call her soon. I was perplexed by her messages. Granted, I didn't remember much from the night before, but I had absolutely no recollection of calling Alice. I put the pieces together though. My mind wrestled with a foggy memory of Victoria sputtering stunted words into my phone while I looked up at her from the floor.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably as I gazed down at the phone, gurgling in protest of its emptiness. I clutched it as though I could squeeze the feeling away. I had an urge for something salty and greasy – bacon and eggs, maybe potatoes – something that would thoroughly fill the hole inside me. And yet I knew that I had to at least marginally confront the events of the night before, acknowledge what I'd been through, and mentally prepare myself to face the world before I could appease the needs of my body.

I leaned forward and put my head in my hands, running my fingers through the oily strands of my hair and forced myself to grasp onto the snatches of memories that were floating around my brain, all disconnected and jumbled. Of course the first thing that my greedy brain latched onto was an image of Edward. I had no idea how it happened, but he'd come to my rescue last night. He was my hero and I couldn't help but think of him surrounded by a halo of light or standing ten feet tall like a fictional superhero, his hands on his hips, and his bronze-tipped hair messily licking his head like flares of the sun.

I didn't quite know what to do or what to think. How would he act around me now? Did he think that I was some kind of druggy and that my behavior last night was normal? I couldn't be sure why – something he said or did last night – but I trusted that he didn't see me in this way. Even though I was by far not thinking with any clarity, I believed that he really just wanted to help me, and that he wasn't passing judgment. I wondered if he would address the whole torrid thing in our group meeting. What was I going to do?

I was so embarrassed and ashamed for being so naïve. I thought that I was smart and maybe even a little savvy. I never imagined that the cookies Felix and Demetri pushed on me were laced with something. Renee was much more overt with her drugs, never concealing them in anything as fundamentally innocent and benign as a cookie. And to me, cookies were always a peace offering. When she had still been coherent enough to care about how she'd neglected me or how her actions might have affected me, Renee sometimes bought me cookies to smooth things over. It never cured any of my wounds, but I didn't care. I always gobbled up the attention and the cookies, knowing that it might be a while before I would be able to indulge again.

The right thing to do would be to tell Charlie about the creepy guys who gave me the cookies. But then what would that make him think about me? They didn't force me to eat them. And I ate three. Thank god for Victoria. I didn't even want to think about what might have happened if it weren't for her. I owed her. The beginning of an idea of how to pay her back properly was forming in my mind when my cell phone rang, vibrating to life in my hands. As I pushed the button to answer, my stomach poked at me, reminding me of its insistent need.

"Hello," I muttered with trepidation.

"Bella, Jesus Christ I've been so worried about you! Are you okay?"

"Yes…yes, Alice, I'm okay…really."

"Well, why didn't you answer your phone? I called like three times this morning."

"I'm sorry Alice. I slept in kinda late. And I'm not really used to having a phone yet. I accidentally left it in my pocket last night and well, I guess I didn't hear it ringing," I explained, only partially distorting the truth.

"Did something happen? I felt so bad when I checked my phone this morning and saw that I missed a call from you at ten last night. You've never called before and it just worried me. What was up? You can tell me if something's the matter." She spoke quickly and with intensity, rattling off one question after another.

"No, really Alice, I'm fine. I um…just…well, I felt like talking to you," I lied, clutching the ache in my stomach.

"Oh, well okay," she acquiesced, though I could tell from her vacant tone she suspected that there was more I wasn't telling her. She didn't push though and I was thankful. If Edward hadn't told her about last night, I certainly wasn't going to say anything. I hated lying to her, but I was still slightly horrified about the events from the night before and I simply couldn't find the courage to tell her.

She began to tell me about her night with Jasper, describing in great detail the indoor picnic that they'd had in her room and the giant hunk of purple amethyst he'd given her. She told me that she'd placed it on the table next to her bed so that she could look at it each night before going to sleep and think of him. When she started talking about how much she was going to miss him and how they clung together this morning when he eventually had to leave, I felt the guilt begin to nag at the back of my mind. Here she was sharing her innermost fears and thoughts with me while I secretly was building another wall around me, shutting her out.

After reassuring Alice as best I could, effectively keeping the conversation focused on her, I finally caved to the relentless nagging of hunger and ended the call. I headed downstairs where Charlie was predictably perched in front of the television watching the tail end of a baseball game. He smiled and waved as I slinked past into the kitchen.

I quickly constructed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, knowing that my hunger couldn't wait for something more complicated. I sat down at the table, shoving a huge bite into my mouth, trying to ignore the growing voice in the back of my head that was screaming at me to confide in Alice, to share everything with her. With a mouthful of peanut butter, I got up to pour myself a glass of milk and resolved that when the time was right I would tell her about the party, the cookies, and her brother, my savior.

I sat down to finish my sandwich, taking a large gulp of the cold milk, feeling it wash the peanut butter away, and felt the guilt wash away as well. Now that I'd made the decision, I felt much lighter. I would wait and see what happened in therapy with Edward – Dr. Cullen – and then I would talk to her.

I had just pushed the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth when there was a loud rap on the front door. My shoulders lurched in surprise, and I jumped to my feet, the chair squealing as it scraped across the floor behind me. Charlie beat me to the door. I stood behind him, wiping crumbs from my lips, eagerly looking over his shoulder.

He swung the door open wide and my jaw dropped as I found myself looking into the concerned face of Dr. Hale. She reached her hand outward with confidence toward Charlie, letting it rest on his arm familiarly, but her eyes never left mine.

"Hello Charlie, I need to speak with Bella. May I come in?"

So…what did you guys think of the morning after? A little humiliating? Ever been in a similar place? Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! Reviews make me happy! Please!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N:

I have such wonderful readers! The last chapter seemed to provoke a lot of interesting thoughts and comments. I had several lengthy, very personal reviews. Thank you for sharing your memories with me! I can't tell you how much I am enjoying writing this story and sharing it with you guys. It's fantastic.

Thanks to my fabulous beta, ms. ambrosia who is such a great advocate of this story. She's been busy working on creating a site dedicated to awards specifically for vampire fics. It looks incredible so far and the categories are awesome. It's not ready yet, but you guys should check out the site: http:/collectedmoments(dot) com/vampawards/.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

"I know you're probably wondering why I'm here," Dr. Hale said, folding her hands almost nervously in her lap.

She was as impeccably dressed as always, but upon closer inspection I noticed that her hair was sloppier than usual, a few stray strands escaping the confines of her bun and hanging limply along the side of her face. Her shirt was wrinkled, the bottom button carelessly left undone, revealing a small triangle of skin. This incongruity made me more uncomfortable than anything else about her unkempt demeanor, my eyes unconsciously drawn to the patch as if glimpsing something innately private.

Something about the furtive, agitated look in Dr. Hale's eyes reminded me briefly of my mother and I wondered for a brief instant if Dr. Hale was having some sort of breakdown. But I couldn't come up with any sane reason for why she had come to my house to have her mental collapse, unless the universe was cursing me. As if I somehow drove all the women in my life to madness.

I quickly dismissed this insane notion, knowing that the truth was probably much closer to my initial fear at seeing Dr. Hale on Charlie's doorstep. She was inevitably here because Edward – Dr. Cullen – had betrayed me and now I had to face the consequences. Maybe they had a great laugh over my demise. I imagined them sitting on one of the long couches in the Cullen's living room, analyzing my behavior from the night before and drawing the most damning conclusions about me. I gave Dr. Cullen no reason to believe that I wasn't a drug addict just like my mom and now I had to expect that they were going to force me into a treatment program. Maybe Edward sent Dr. Hale here to break the news to me, because he no longer wanted anything to do with me.

This thought stabbed me deeply in the heart, and as I glanced over into Dr. Hale's troubled gaze, I knew my face reflected her agitation. I couldn't help but think that we both were equally on edge and reluctant to start the conversation that was surely unavoidable. She fidgeted as if hesitating, and despite my fear of what she might say, I felt an irrational need to comfort her, to ease her distress.

"Um, Dr. Hale," I squeaked. "I know why you're here. I mean, I know it's about last night. Um, Dr. Cullen…he…um…he talked to you," I sputtered unintelligibly, getting more and more flustered as the words stumbled from my lips.

"Yes…well, no…I mean, yes, I am here because he spoke with me, but not for the reasons you think, Bella," she answered, and unlike me, her voice became stronger and surer with each word.

We stared at each other silently and though I wanted to dislike her, to escape her scrutiny, I couldn't. She looked at me as though she was trying to read a book written in a language she didn't quite understand. Yet, her expression, as always, was shockingly open and honest. And then when she managed to smile at me around the anxiety she still carried, I knew without a doubt that she wasn't judging me. Rather, her eyes showed that she was sympathizing with me. Remarkably, I realized, I trusted her.

"Please Bella, just listen to what I have to tell you, and then we can talk about what happened, okay?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Okay," I agreed, settling back in my chair to face whatever it was the Dr. Hale came to say to me.

"There are many reasons why each of us are drawn to our chosen profession. Some of us come to it naturally. Like Edward – Dr. Cullen – he was always so sensitive, a natural caregiver, and his father is a doctor too…it just seemed like a likely choice for him to follow in that path. But it wasn't like that for me," she said and then paused, looking down at her lap as though composing her thoughts. When her eyes lifted, I recognized the look of numb resolution there and braced myself for words of pain or disappointment – things with which I was abundantly familiar.

"Did you know that I grew up here in Forks?" she asked. I shook my head, realizing that I'd assumed she had met Emmett in Chicago.

"Well, I did. In fact, I went to school with Emmett and Edward from a very young age. Of course, they didn't like me back then - no one did."

"Why? I can't believe that," I stated. I couldn't imagine that there was ever a time that Rosalie Hale wasn't beautiful and popular and living a charmed life.

"Believe it. I wasn't very likeable," she said plainly, turning her head to the window and for a moment I thought she'd forgotten I was there. But then she starting speaking again, dredging up a painful past, weaving her tale as though it was pertinent that I listened carefully and understood her meaning. I focused intently on her words, both honored but slightly wary that she was sharing something so personal with me.

"I was an only child, and though my parents didn't have much money, they gave me everything I wanted…spoiled me. My mother doted on me, told me I was the most beautiful girl in the world, the smartest girl, that I was better and that I deserved more than other people. And for a long time I believed her. It was all I'd ever known."

"You see, she was incredibly unhappy herself. I grew up constantly hearing stories about how miserable she was, how she'd settled, how unfair life had been to her. She never took ownership over any of her decisions, but blamed everyone else for all her disappointments, including my father. She treated him horribly, always yelling at him, belittling him and he just shut down and never fought back."

"She poured all her hopes in life onto me, molding me into what she always wanted to be – the girl that everyone else envied, the girl that no one could touch." She almost whispered the last part of her sentence, her voice losing its power. She sighed heavily before continuing.

"I became everything she expected. I was the most beautiful, the most popular girl. Every girl wanted to be me and every boy wanted to be my boyfriend. But I was hateful. Deep down inside I feared that I was ordinary, just the same as everyone else, so I had to prove that I was superior by belittling others, putting them down, spreading hateful rumors, treating the boys who liked me like dirt…just like my mother treated my father."

"And they all bowed down to me. They all adored me and treated me like I was the princess of the town…But I was so _so_ unhappy, Bella. It was such a hollow life. I never knew who I really was, what my true worth was. I was just a shell of a person…like a Barbie doll."

I couldn't help feeling guilty that my initial impression of her was very much along those lines. She looked so much like the image she described that it was easier to accept her as the conceited, blond goddess than the kind and compassionate woman she actually was.

"There were only two people who didn't fawn over me like everyone else in the town - Emmett Cullen and Royce King. Emmett was the most popular guy in our high school, but he was popular not because he was snotty and a jerk like I was, but because he was friendly to everyone. He was kind and funny and helpful. He somehow saw through the façade that I'd constructed, and was always challenging me, pushing me to be a better person. He quashed rumors that I'd started and dated the girls that I'd put down. He was always deflecting my ire, making a joke of my bitchiness, and defended even the nerdiest, most unpopular kids.

"He was everything that I wasn't. I secretly loved and admired him all through high school, but I knew he would never have me. I was too mean, too conceited, too full of myself. I wasn't good enough for Emmett Cullen. So I pretended that he wasn't good enough for me. If only I hadn't been so stupid," she lamented, getting that faraway look in her eyes again.

"Royce King was the only other person in school who was as arrogant as I was. His parents were close friends with mine and our families got together occasionally for dinners or barbeques. The Kings were wealthier than my family and my mother saw Royce as being my chance to finally achieve everything she ever wanted for herself.

"My mother didn't care when I told her that Royce was the school bully who cheated on tests and tripped people in the hallway for laughs. She thought Royce was handsome and charming, and he came to represent for her the boy that she never got to have. She ignored my opinion entirely and continually forced us together, nagging me and pestering me about pursuing him."

"Royce also ignored the fact that I didn't like him. He only wanted to be with me because I was the most popular girl in school. And I was the only girl that didn't fawn all over him. When he realized that I really wasn't interested in him, he started to get creepy around me. He started harassing me in school, grabbing me from behind, pinching me. One day when he found me in the hallway alone, he slammed me into a locker and pressed his body into me, crushing his lips against mine.

"When the bell rang, saving me, he stalked off as if nothing had happened. I was so shocked and terrified that I started shaking. I ran to the nurse's office before anyone noticed and feigned a stomach ache. The nurse called my mother and she came to pick me up from school. I told her what happened in the car, but she didn't care. She said that I deserved it, that I'd been leading him on."

Tears slid down Dr. Hale's beautiful face and I felt compelled to say something. "She was wrong. She shouldn't have said that," I said, reaching out tentatively to touch her knee.

"I now know she was wrong, but then I believed her. I knew that I wasn't a good person. I felt black inside, like my heart was shriveled up. I felt like I deserved to be punished."

I felt sorry for Dr. Hale, but I wondered why she was telling me this story. What did it have to do with me? I was worrying myself into all kinds of scenarios when she starting talking again.

"It got worse after that. Royce seemed to try and find any opportunity to torment me. He was constantly fondling me, groping me, putting his arms around me, telling everyone that I was his girlfriend. I was frightened enough of his rough behavior that I didn't contradict him and he took this as a form of acceptance. He starting demanding me to kiss him each day in the hallway between classes and I did it because I felt like I had no other choice."

"He began to get possessive of me and got in several fights with other guys who looked at me or accidentally touched me. I don't remember when or why it happened, but he began to pick me up before school each morning and drive me home every day. My mother invited him over for dinner all the time. By the end of my senior year I was seeing him constantly, but never of my own instigation, never by my own desire. By the time prom came around, he didn't even ask me, he just expected I would go with him and told me when he would pick me up."

"I detested him more and more each day. I was physically repulsed by him. I recoiled each time he touched me, but he just simply chose not to notice or care."

"What happened? Did you go to prom with him?" I asked, now thoroughly engrossed in her tale.

"Yes, I didn't have a choice. I went to the dance with him," she said, a flash of anguish stretching her features before she returned to her story.

"He came to my house dressed in his tuxedo and charmed my mother like always, but the second we got into his car he turned off the act and we drove to the school in silence. When we got to the dance he left me with a group of girls whose names I can't even remember and disappeared for nearly an hour. While he was gone, Emmett asked me to dance. He was the only guy who would even talk to me anymore. I remember asking him if he was sure. And he said that I was worth it."

Dr. Hale smiled at the memory and ran her fingers through her hair as if transported to another time and place. And then her smiled dropped from her face and she looked away while speaking.

"Dancing with Emmett was the most romantic, wonderful moment of my life. I never felt more comfortable, more safe, than with his arms wrapped around me, his warm hands rubbing a pattern on my back. It was a perfect moment, but it was over too quickly. Before I could even say thank you or goodbye, Royce was behind me, his fingers digging into my hip. His other hand grabbed my arm and dragged me away through the crowd of moving bodies."

"I knew that I was in trouble as I stumbled along after him in my high heels. His fingers got progressively tighter around my arm, bruising me painfully. I was afraid to speak, but I whimpered in protest. He came to an abrupt stop, and released me. I nearly fell against the lockers, but somehow caught myself. It wasn't until I noticed that we were in an empty hallway that I panicked, knowing that I'd never seen Royce so angry before."

"He called me a bitch and then before I could even say anything in defense, he slapped me so hard I felt my teeth rattle in my skull. I was dizzy and stunned and slumped heavily against the cold bank of lockers. I wanted to scream, to hit him back, to do anything, but he was gone."

"I didn't know where else to go so I walked back to the gymnasium and sat down at a table. Royce was there with his regular group of friends and he made a big show of bringing me a drink as if he really were the thoughtful boyfriend he pretended to be. I sat at the table alone for the rest of the dance and sipped the punch, watching everyone else dancing, laughing, and having a great time."

I tried to imagine myself dancing and laughing at prom and found it easier to see me sitting alone at a table like Dr. Hale, watching and observing, but not participating. It was hard though to envision her ever being as weak and unconfident as I felt. I could only see her as the queen of the prom, the center of attention, the girl that every other one envied and wanted to be. Her story was inconsistent with my perception of who she was now and I struggled to reconcile the images in my mind.

"Did you see Emmett again that night? Did he and Royce get in a fight?" I asked, thinking of the giant, but sweet man that I'd just met. I couldn't imagine him ever losing a fight.

"I'm getting to that. Actually, this is the part of the story that is the hardest to tell. And the part that I came here to tell you," she said pointedly, looking me directly in the eye.

"When the dance started winding down, Royce came to collect me. I was feeling very tired and was anxious for him to take me home and I even felt a twinge of relief at the thought that the night would soon be over. But unfortunately, Royce had made other plans for us. He nearly dragged me to his car in his haste to get out of the dance; I was so limp and tired at this point that I kept tripping and stumbling and even fell down at one point, skimming my knee and tearing my dress."

"Royce didn't care. He shoved me roughly into the car. I remember feeling like I should be crying, but I was tired and my body felt so heavy that even crying felt like too much effort. I slumped down into the seat and closed my eyes. I woke up to Royce yanking on my arm, his face was angry and he was yelling, but I couldn't seem to make out the words. Somehow, he got me out of the car and I remember that I didn't want to touch him, but I couldn't walk without leaning heavily on him."

"He wrapped his arm around my waist and led me forward into a house filled with people and loud music. Someone bumped me and I nearly fell again, but Royce dropped me into the couch and walked away. I sat there for several minutes fighting consciousness as if strong hands were pushing me into the darkness."

"Royce returned at some point and shook me awake, placing a drink to my lips. I immediately realized that I was thirsty and took a giant gulp. The drink was too fizzy and too sweet, but Royce wouldn't pull it away from my lips. He kept tilting the cup, carelessly spilling some on my dress and down my neck, so I was forced to keep drinking. When he rubbed his hand across my chest to wipe away the mess, I didn't even care that he was touching me. That was when I knew something was seriously wrong, but it was too late to do anything about it."

"I barely had time to wonder what had happened before I felt a dark, heavy, blanket push me into a black, empty void of unconsciousness where I no longer was in control of my own body, or my own destiny."

I finally was beginning to understand why Dr. Hale was telling me this story. I too had felt that heavy veil of darkness. Royce King had drugged her like I had been drugged. My mind skipped to Victoria – red hair, strong hands, lips pursed around a cigarette – and wondered if a friend had dragged her away to safety.

"I woke up the next morning in a ditch along the side of the road. I was partially naked; my dress was smeared with dirt and blood and ripped in several places. I tried to sit up, but the pain was so unbearable I screamed out and fell back to the earth and slipped back into unconsciousness. When I woke up again, Emmett was standing over me, his hands on my shoulders. He was crying. He scooped me up as carefully as he could and took me to the hospital."

I couldn't help crying too. I knew what she was going to tell me and it was horrible - the most horrible thing I could imagine. How could this happen to such a beautiful and kind woman? She didn't deserve it. No one deserved it.

"I stayed in the hospital two days. I had two black eyes, a broken rib, a few lacerations on my lip and bruises all over my body. I had been raped repeatedly, by more than one person. I couldn't walk for days and I didn't talk to anyone for almost two weeks. Emmett came to see me every day. He didn't force me to talk, he just sat with me, told me about Edward and little Alice, and things that he thought were funny or interesting."

"He was the one that finally got me to admit that Royce drugged me. I thought he would kill him, but he was smarter than that. He got your dad, Charlie, involved and together they made it their mission to get him put in prison. Your dad was so great, Bella. He did everything he could to get him convicted of rape." Her voice broke at the end and I could tell that she hadn't given me the whole story yet.

"Did he go to jail?" I asked.

"No," she answered reluctantly.

"No! What happened? I thought you said Charlie…and Emmett…"

"They tried, but Royce's family hired a lawyer from Seattle that convinced the jury that he was my boyfriend and that we'd had consensual sex earlier in the night. He claimed that he'd left me at the party because I wanted to keep drinking and that he was at home when I'd been raped. Some of the girls who had been jealous of me decided that the trial was their time to knock me down a few notches. Several testified that Royce and I were dating and that we were in love and were always really physical with each other at school."

"Even though the doctor from the hospital testified that I had been a virgin before that night, Royce's lawyer somehow made it sound like I'd asked for the sex and deserved to be raped. One of my so-called 'friends' even lied, saying that I was a slut and slept around all the time. There were lots of witnesses at the party who said that Royce had left and I was alone for some time before I disappeared."

"What about DNA?" I blurted.

"They took a DNA sample, but DNA evidence wasn't even admissible in court at that time. The doctors told me that the results were inconclusive anyway because it was a gang rape. There were too many DNA samples on me for the evidence to be reliable," she muttered dispassionately, her words laced with bitterness.

"What about the others…the ones who…who…raped you?" I questioned in a whisper; the words were too ugly to say any louder.

"There was an investigation, but since there were no witnesses, they didn't have much of a case. It took me a long time to accept that I'll never really know for sure who was involved."

We sat in silence for a long time, both of us mulling over her words – Dr. Hale reliving the horrifying events of her past, while I tried to visualize her as she was when she was my age – a wounded teenager, betrayed and victimized by a cruel, hateful, and possibly deranged boy.

"Is he still in Forks? Royce, I mean?" I asked, suddenly frightened to discover her answer.

"No. When Emmett and I left for Chicago I heard that he moved with his family to Texas. Thankfully, I haven't seen or heard from him since the trial. Emmett has threatened to make him conveniently disappear if he ever shows his face here again."

"Oh…good," I stated plainly.

"Bella, do you understand why I've told you all this?"

"Um yeah, I think so," I muttered.

"Bella, Edward told me a little of what happened to you last night, but I'm not sure if he knows everything. He was so worried, almost frantic really, pacing and pulling on his hair. He finally pulled me aside and confessed to me about picking you up from the party." She paused, waiting for my reaction. But her words stunned me to silence. Edward was pacing. He was _worried. _Why did knowing this thrill me so?

"He told me that he thought that you had been drugged at the party, but was afraid that you wouldn't feel comfortable confiding in him. He told me that you didn't want to tell Charlie and he hoped that it would be easier for you to talk to me because of my past," she continued to explain.

"And he wanted me to come here to tell you about it so that you would know that we would do everything we could to help you if something like this happened to you...So, please tell me, Bella did anything similar happen to you last night?"

End Notes:

Thank you for reading. I promise some Edward next chapter. And Jacob too. Please leave a review. How else am I supposed to know that you're out there? Just say hi, or leave a smiley…that's all it takes.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N:

Thank you so much for all the reviews! Your thoughtful and perceptive comments touched me and made me proud to be part of this community. I actually had more reviews for the last chapter than ever before. I know that it was an especially heavy and emotional one, so I'm really amazed by the response. As you've probably already figured out, I kind of like attacking the heavy stuff.

This chapter is a little lighter, but equally as important to the plot of the story. Each one of these chapters reveal a little more about how Bella is learning to grow and define herself. These are her formative moments.

I have a few important things to say when you're finished reading, so please read my notes at the end of this chapter! This one is a little different, but I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

Old Legends and Animal Skins

For the first time since I woke up I almost felt human again. The fresh, cool air streaming through the open windows revived me, awakening all my senses. I could feel every gust of air, every rock on the road, through the thin frame of Jacob's car as we sped down the meandering road between Forks and La Push.

The air got progressively colder as we neared our destination, but neither of us made any move to roll up the windows, allowing the scent of the ocean to waft over us, dousing our skin with a thin veneer of salt. The forest and mossy ferns gave way to gnarled and twisted trees, clinging inexplicably to dramatic sandy cliffs, and low-lying pillows of fog that took only seconds to drive through.

I reveled in the novelty of the setting, the lush greenery, the moistness, the marine vegetation, still new and filling me with awe, as if experiencing it for the first time. Renee had always preferred the dry, sunny desert climate over the perpetually wet and cloudy forests of western Washington. Yet, I felt more at ease here in this exceedingly leafy, lush and densely green place than I had ever been in the suffocatingly hot and blazingly sunny southwest.

Perhaps it was Jacob's attitude that was infectious, almost healing in its optimism. Or maybe I just needed this distraction so badly after the night I'd suffered through. It felt freeing to not think about Edward or Charlie or even Rosalie and all that she'd revealed so openly to me earlier.

I couldn't help but be affected by her heartbreaking words, the painful memories that were an all too appropriate warning of what could have happened at the party – what _might_ have happened if Victoria hadn't miraculously pulled me away from danger. I recalled the hard, empty look in her eyes, so different from her usual warm gaze, as she talked of Royce and the way he touched her and handled her so possessively, so maliciously. I felt sad and angry for her all at once.

I don't know how Emmett restrained himself from killing that evil man. I actually imagined scratching Royce King's eyeballs out. I still had fingernail marks on my palms from curling my fists so tightly when she was talking. I felt furious for her, outraged by her story, in a way that I had never felt for myself, no matter how badly I was treated.

And when she had asked me that question – that terrifying question – that made her hands tremble and my stomach drop, I lost my voice. What could I say to her to let her know that I was horrified by her story, and that I was utterly saddened that something that evil, that cruel had happened to her? There were no words. I was so overwhelmed by her loss, her trauma, that I couldn't even yet process, let alone feel thankful, that I'd escaped the same fate.

She had to ask me several times before I could speak. I will never forget the look on her face while she waited for my words. It was as if there was no blood flowing through her veins – she was so pale and rigid – her arms tucked tightly into her sides, and her shoulders raised as if bracing for a blow.

"No…no," I squeaked. "Nothing happened…Edward, I mean Dr. Cullen…he came in time and I was just sick. That's all…nothing happened." As I stumbled through my words, images from the night before streamed through my mind – the faces seemed meaner, more wicked in my memories – Demetri, Felix, Lauren. And then there were other types of faces, the ones showing kindness, pity perhaps, but also compassion: Victoria, Edward.

Edward's beautiful, caring expression as he placed his hand on mine and told me that what happened wasn't my fault made my heart flutter anew. After hearing Rosalie's story, I understood much more clearly why he was so intent on helping me. It wasn't that he had any special feelings toward me; he just wanted to save me from suffering the same fate as Rosalie.

As Jacob's little Volkswagen Rabbit wound around a sharp curve, his arm flung out protectively, jostling me out of my reverie. He smiled sheepishly at me, embarrassed by his instinctual gesture, and I couldn't resist smiling back.

When I woke up this morning I had entirely forgotten about the plans I had made with Jacob to visit the Quileute Reservation and was thoroughly perplexed when Charlie interrupted my conversation with Rosalie, the phone in his outstretched hand. I grasped it in mine uncertainly, wondering whose voice I would hear on the other end.

"Did you forget about me, Bella?" Jacob asked, jokingly, teasingly.

"Oh…um…oh, Jacob, I'm sorry," I muttered incoherently, flustered, my eyes on Rosalie, who was slowly rising, wiping invisible creases from her skirt.

"Hey Bella, no worries," he said. "I waited as I long as I could before calling. But I wanted to check and see if you still wanted to go out to the Res…I mean before it got too late."

I had been so worn out and tired, so completely drained both physically and emotionally that I could barely remember to breathe, to eat, to put one foot in front of the other. And then with the added distraction of Rosalie's visit, anything outside of our little bubble of conversation ceased to exist for me. Jacob's voice brought me to surface and the reality of the world outside came crashing down on me.

"So, do you still want to go? If you do, we need to leave soon. I mean…there are still a few hours of daylight and I told some friends that you were coming and they really want to meet you. If…you still…you know, want to go," he said, sounding a little unsure.

I immediately thought of Mrs. Clearwater and how proud she'd been of me for planning to visit the reservation, how happy she'd been by my interest. I hated the idea of disappointing her in any way. My eyes shot up to Rosalie who was determinedly looking at the titles of some of the books I'd just placed on the shelf, deliberately giving me some privacy.

"Look Jacob, I need to go. Can I call you right back?" I asked.

"Okay, but be quick. We don't have much time if you still want to go."

"I'll call right back," I said, hanging up.

Rosalie turned back toward me, an impish smile on her face. "I've taken up too much of your time," she said matter-of-factly, no ambiguity in her tone. She reached out her manicured hand and placed it on my shoulder. "I'm so relieved that we had this talk," she said, squeezing lightly, her eyes kind and warm as they assessed my mood.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Hale…Rosalie," I said with my eyes downcast, afraid to reveal the extent of my feelings.

"You're quite welcome, Bella. I became a therapist because I know what it feels like to be as low as a human being can get and I know what it feels like to need help. But I also know that it's possible to heal. How could I not share that with others?" she questioned rhetorically, leaning in unexpectedly to hug me. "I see so much potential in you, Bella," she whispered, tears pooling in her beautiful, blue eyes.

I stifled a sob, nodding mutely at her. The phone rang again, effectively ending the moment. Rosalie chuckled at the interruption. "I'll let you get on with your day," she said as she headed toward the front door. Before stepping outside, she turned back to face me. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Edward had something special planned for our session."

I watched her disappear down the steps as I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"I'm about five minutes away, if you still want to go," Jacob said.

"Oh, okay. I'll run upstairs and change and meet you out front in a few minutes," I said, my head throbbing as I started to take the stairs two at a time.

Five minutes later I found myself strapped into Jacob's little car, speeding off to the reservation and another new and mysterious experience.

Jacob seemed to read my mood, leaving me to study the view out the window as we passed and to dwell in my thoughts. As we swerved around a sharp bend in the road, the ocean opened up wide before us, the white-capped waves crashing violently before lapping up the sandy shore. But I hardly noticed the dip and peak of the churning water, because the sun was as big as I'd ever seen it, a huge fiery orb of brilliant orange that licked the horizon as it dipped ever closer to the earth. I gasped in delight at the sublime view.

Jacob chuckled at my reaction. "It's pretty isn't it? I always thought that the Quileute got the best deal out of all the tribes. I mean who wouldn't want to live here? Our people still embrace the same way of life as we did hundreds of years ago because the ocean provides for us."

"That's really so cool," I said genuinely and was graced with Jacob's signature smile.

"The ocean is just one part of our culture. I know you want to hear about all the wolf stuff…so we'll head to the community center and we'll get one of the elders to tell you the story. Plus there's a bunch of photos and stuff."

"Okay," I nodded, excitement building in my belly.

Jacob slowed the car as we approached a large building perched on the edge of the ocean cliff. It was a wide structure comprised of long, vertical wooden planks. The words "Quileute Community Center" were written in small non-descript lettering to the left of the modest doorway. If you weren't looking closely, you might have missed the sign entirely.

It was a surprisingly modest structure, angular and modern, but not terribly distinctive. However, right in front of the building was a tall, dramatic totem pole that wholly overshadowed the simple community center. Dominating the native sculpture was a huge relief carving of a pale blue whale that looked as though it was swimming downstream toward the seal on the register below it. On the bottom of the totem was a caricature of what I thought might be a wolf. I squinted at the squat figure that seemed as if he were holding the ocean creatures on his shoulders, preventing them from crashing spectacularly onto the ground.

As we pulled into a parking spot in the lot in front of the building, I fiddled with my cell phone, pushing buttons and scrolling through screens, trying to launch the camera feature so that I could take a picture of the totem pole. Jacob noticed my fumbling and pulled the phone out of my hands, pushed a button on the side, and handed it back. I opened the door to the car, slightly shocked by the blast of cold air. I wrapped my arms tightly around my torso, silently wishing that I'd thought to bring something warmer to wear than my thin sweatshirt, and approached the tall and imposing totem pole.

I focused the viewfinder on the giant sculpture, snapping a few pictures, eventually dropping my hand to my side, while craning my neck at an awkward angle to see the top of the pole. I was squinting into the sky, the gusting wind blowing my hair in a wild tangle around my head when Jacob tugged on my hand, forcing my gaze downward.

"Come on," he implored, wrapping his long fingers around mine as he starting walking toward the entrance of the community center. I following along, trying to match his long strides, nerves and anticipation building with each step.

We walked through the front door of the building and I was immediately comforted by the warm air. We were in a long hallway whose walls were littered with notices. I scanned a few as we passed and then pulled away from Jacob to look more closely. There were various flyers for upcoming tribal performances, and several advertisements for businesses run by Quileutes: a realtor, a boat builder, a bakery in Port Angeles, a dog walker, and a preschool. Interspersed between these advertisements were descriptions of items for sale, and bits of artwork by young children in blotchy crayon.

"Bella!" Jacob called me from the end of the hall. I shuffled my way to him and turned the corner into a wide open room which resembled a gymnasium and I imagined that it was sometimes used for sports or cultural shows. A group of five boys were sitting in a random cluster of chairs in the far corner of the large room, chuckling and talking in hushed voices. As Jacob sauntered over to them, I timidly matched his pace, trying to compose my nerves so they didn't show.

"Hey guys, this is Bella," Jacob said to them, gesturing at me and I lifted the corners of my lips into a small, but uncertain smile.

"Hi Bella; I'm Embry," one of the boys said, standing. He was almost as tall as Jacob, but much skinnier, his features sharp and gaunt. He would have been intimidating looking if it weren't for the huge smile on his face and his eager outstretched hand. "It's great to finally meet you," he said as I shook his hand. "We thought Jacob made you up, like you're his imaginary friend or something."

"Shut up, Embry," Jacob said over my shoulder. "Don't listen to him, Bella. He's making crap up."

"I am not," Embry pouted, sitting back down, kicking his long legs up onto another chair.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked quietly, my curiosity making me bold. "I mean…do you hang out here?"

"Sometimes," another boy said sarcastically, chuckling under his breath. "There's not too much to do on the res when Jacob's not around to stir up trouble."

"Damn Quil, what is this – pick on Jacob night?" Jacob asked, feigning that his feelings were wounded.

"Come on man, you're a fucking king around here. It's only right that we get to mess with you sometimes. I mean if we don't, who will? And plus, Bella here needs to know that not everyone bows down to you." Quil threw a fake punch to Jacob's side, but Jacob was faster, easily shifting out of the way.

"Way to make a dude look bad, Jake," Quil complained in a mocking tone, the smile never leaving his face. "You could at least pretend that I could get a shot in."

There was an effortless familiarity between these boys that instantly put me at ease. It was plain that they had known each other their whole lives, and even though they teased one another, they were clearly good friends. I observed quietly for a few moments while they gossiped about a few girls, asked Jacob about his last football game, and took random jibes at one another.

For an instant, I experienced a twinge of jealousy for their camaraderie, for the obvious bond they'd forged through blood and an intrinsic connection to their land and culture. But I fought the feeling away, pushing it to the corner of my mind, and instead embraced the present, allowing myself to believe that at least for the moment, I belonged with this motley group of dark-skinned, jovial boys.

"So Bella, Jacob said you're doing a report on our tribe for school," Quil asked, startling me with his change of subject and putting the focus back on me.

"Yeah, um…I'm writing an article about gray wolves and I thought I'd find out about how um…wolves are part of your tribe's legends and stuff," I mumbled nervously, worried about their reaction to my topic.

"That's awesome," Embry said.

"Yeah, really cool, Bella," said one of the other boys whose name I didn't get. The others nodded and generally seemed to agree. I couldn't deny how happy these boys' approval made me, warmth spreading from my chest to my face. I swished my hair down in a curtain to hide the blush that I couldn't prevent from happening with all their attention directed at me. Jacob laughed at my discomfort, but pulled me to his side in a partial hug.

"The tribal council is meeting tonight. You can talk with Billy, Jacob's dad, when they're done. He's the best at telling the old legends," Quil said, walking forward, turning to Jacob and addressing him exclusively. "You going to be part of drum circle tonight, man?"

"Drum circle?" I asked Jacob, confused. He bent down, his lips at my ear.

"Yeah, we have drum circle every Sunday night. It's a way for us to hang out with the elders and…you know…jam," he explained quietly. "We just have to wait for the tribal council to finish before we can begin. They must be discussing something heavy tonight," he speculated, looking toward a closed door on the other side of the room.

"Hey, let's go look at some of the stuff they have on the walls while we wait."

"Okay," I agreed, my stomach dropping a little at the daunting thought of seeing Billy again. He set me on edge, his voice and demeanor so imposing that I was lost in my worries as Jacob led me to the opposite wall that was decorated with an impressive mural in black and reds. It appeared to a heavily stylized depiction of two eagles with their mouths open as if cawing at one another. I wondered what it meant and was about to ask Jacob when he interrupted my thoughts.

"One of the artists in the tribe painted this when the community center first opened. There weren't any elders alive to teach him so he looked through all the artifacts he could find to teach himself the symbols and the old ways. Now he teaches an art class for some of the kids so that they can learn how to paint in the traditional way too," he explained to me, pride and regret both laced into his words.

I was still gaping at the large scale artwork on the wall when Jacob tugged on my hand, leading me to a rectangular case farther down the wall that looked like a museum display. I arched my body over it to see what was inside. My eyes were immediately drawn to a series of old photographs in sepia tones. In one, a large group of Quileute children, awkwardly posed in western dress, were situated in front of an old school house, their Caucasian teachers standing to the side, symbolically endorsing the uneasy and forced assimilation of the tribe's youngest generation. It was an almost eerie photograph, marking the point in history where the tribe still clung to their culture, a time before their traditional way of life was thoroughly taken from them.

"Bella, come see the dog's hair blanket," Jacob's voice startled me and I looked up to see him pointing further down the wall, closer to the where the tribal council was meeting. We walked over to where the small blanket was displayed, stretched across the wall behind a glass case. I squinted my eyes at it, examining it closely, trying to figure out whether or not I could tell that it was made from dog hair, when the door to the meeting room opened. Three men, including Billy Black, and two women came out into the large room, still heatedly discussing the issues from their meeting.

Billy noticed Jacob and me and immediately approached. "Jake, Bella," he said in greeting. "Have you been enjoying your visit?" he asked me, his eyes flashing intensely.

"Y-yes," I stuttered, hating how insecure he made me feel.

"Jake said you wanted to hear about our legend of the wolf. Do you want to sit?"

"Oh…okay," I replied, stunned that he was so quick to the point. We followed Billy back to the corner with chairs where the group of boys were still sitting, their lanky bodies spilling from the metal chairs, their legs sprawled in front of them. Their banter stopped as soon as they saw Billy coming toward them and I recognized in their looks and posture that they were just as intimidated by him as I was.

I was still preoccupied with this thought when Billy's commanding voice filled the hall, echoing off of the high wooden rafters, demanding our rapt attention. I looked away for a brief second at the boys who now sat around me in a circle and was moved by the intensity of their attention, their eyes and minds fixed completely and exclusively on Billy.

All at once, I realized that it wasn't fear that Billy inspired in them, but respect and a revered sense of awe. They admired him for his knowledge of their traditions and his position in their community. He was like a keeper of their culture and I instantly felt guilty for misreading him, my perception entirely distorted.

"We have lost much of our old legends. Our stories were not written down and many have drifted away in the wind." He raised his arm and waved his fingers as if reaching out to tickle the air.

"But the legend of the wolf and how our tribe came to be is still known." I felt Jacob's hand on my back as he moved closer to the front, into the chair directly next to Billy. I didn't know whether he wanted to sit closer to his father or if he was trying to hear more clearly, but Billy wasn't even remotely disturbed by the shifting of chairs, continuing in his deep baritone. All of these boys must have heard this story many times before and yet, they held onto every syllable of Billy's words – a focus that other boys their age only had for violent video games and sporting events.

"Our culture has always been closely tied to both the land and the sea. Our people fished the oceans and streams, hunted whales and built strong and balanced canoes. We were not just people of the ocean though, but also of the forest. The trees provided shelter for us and the animals gave us food and skins.

"The wolf, above all other animals, was the most important to the tribe. The first one of our people was transformed from a wolf by K'wa'iti, a shape-shifting trickster. The name of our tribe, Quileute, comes from the word, kwoli, which means wolf in our language. Our language is one of the most unique languages in the world. Today, only three of our elders still speak the old language." Billy made this last statement without remorse, more as if he was simply stating a fact, though I could tell by the faces of Jacob and his friends that they took his words personally.

"Today, the gray wolf, our ancient ancestor, is facing extinction. It does not escape our notice that the fate of the wolf is linked to the fate of our tribe. The wolf disappears from this world and so goes the Quileute with him. Our way is disappearing from this world. The path of the future is unclear…yet to be determined. It is now up to our young people to find the new path for our people so that we can continue to survive." Billy's eyes passed over each boy, holding their gaze in silent communication, as if ensuring they understood their responsibility in this tale. His eyes landed on mine last and I recognized the same plea, the same demand in them to honor his tribe, as he held for all the others. I experienced a brief thrill to be included in this way, privileged that his penetrating gaze expected something of me as well.

"Our tribe does what we can to help the conservation program, but we have many other problems as well that sadly take precedence. Tonight at council we were discussing the drug and alcohol rehabilitation center that we are hoping to build. Our people suffer greatly. Many live in poverty, many are addicted to drugs and alcohol. Our community has many problems and unfortunately the plight of the wolf is just one of many we must face."

Billy's composure softened for a moment before he composed himself. I imagined him to be like a general in an army, having to keep up a brave front for his troops at all times. I could easily imagine how hard and tiring it must be for him. When he spoke it was easy to forget that underneath it all, he was still a single father with a disability.

As soon as Billy wheeled away, I noticed that the room had filled up with more people and the drums that had been sitting along the edge of the room were now scattered in a loose circle in the center of the large space. Jacob and his group of friends made their way to the circle, grabbing various well-worn drums covered with animal skins and bringing them with them.

Ignoring my protests, Jacob handed me a drum, saying, "Come on Bella, this is the best part of the night." An older wrinkled man sat down, crossing his legs one over the other, and everyone else soon followed, mimicking his pretzeled position. He sang out a few words in the native language and before I knew it everyone was drumming. Some people were clearly skilled and much better than the others in the circle, but it didn't seem to matter. I could feel the rhythmic beat deep inside my body, driving my heart to the same pulsing tattoo of the drums.

My hand began to move unconsciously to the beat, landing on the taut animal skin instinctively. Within a few minutes, I felt my body relax, relenting to the pull of the group. Both of my hands were moving, finding the rhythm inside of me. It seemed natural, healing, as if the only thing in the world that existed was the beat of the music we were creating. I stopped thinking, stopped worrying and just felt.

The next day at school, my mind kept going back to the drum circle. The thrumming beat haunted my daydreams, transporting me to another time and place entirely.

Even at night, when I found myself in our group meeting, the beat came back to me. I could feel the slap of the skin, the vibration in my fingers. It wasn't until Edward walked into the room, a look of grave seriousness on his face, that the beat in my head stopped. I gazed into his intense green eyes, and for the first time all day, my mind was silent.

End Notes:

Hi guys. What did you think of this one? It required a lot of research which I am kind of a nerd about anyway. I have a degree in Art History and I'm a bit of an anthropology buff as well so this chapter played into those interests. I hope I didn't bore some of you with all the details (which as you already know, I can't help myself.)

In my research I discovered several things. First, I'd like to say that I always loved the Native American element of the Twilight stories, though I felt as though it could have been explored much more than it was. SM could have used the opportunity to enlighten her teenage writers about another way of life. I'm not criticizing her – I'm one of the people who think her stories are perfect as they are – but it was always a thought in the back of my mind as I was reading.

Having said that, all the details I use in the chapter are to my knowledge, accurate. Of course I haven't visited the Quileute Community Center myself, but the description, including that of the totem pole outside, is from a photograph of the actual building. The legends are real legends and the Quileute Tribal Council really is discussing the opening of a drug and alcohol rehab center for their tribe.

Today there are only about 750 Quileute Indians; only three speak the native tongue, which truly is one of the most unique languages in the world, having no nasal sounds.

The Quileute suffer from the same issues as many other tribes today, specifically poverty and drug and alcohol abuse. Surprisingly, the Quileute, though now widely known and popularized through the Twilight series, have received no financial benefit from the whole Twilight phenomenon. Even if Summit Enterprises offered to the tribe a very small percentage of what they have profited from the use of the tribal iconography and references to their cultural heritage, it would greatly help the tribe. One reference on the internet (not sure of its accuracy), claimed that the first movie alone made $131 million worldwide. That's a pretty huge chunk of change. Imagine what this small tribe could do with a little slice of Hollywood pie!

Enough of my tirade. Sorry to be so pedantic. I'm not much of an activist, though I do live close to Berkeley. But it was just such interesting information that I had to share.

I am extremely sorry that there was very little Edward in this chapter. Next one – lots of Edward – I really mean it this time. I miss him too!

Oh yeah, please leave me a review!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N:

**Some of you loved the last chapter and some of you missed Edward so much that you couldn't enjoy it. I completely understand, so I brought him back for this chapter. **

**My poor beta, ms. ambrosia, had a lot of work to do on this one. Just when I think I've got the comma thing down, she finds all my mistakes and humbles me again. I don't know what I'd do without her!**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't.**

Apologies and Promises

Jacob and I were largely silent on the drive home from the reservation. I kept going over Billy's words in my mind, and relishing the feeling of euphoria I experienced while drumming along with the others in the circle. Jacob too seemed like his mind was still back at the community center, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel, as if he was literally still sitting cross-legged on the floor, his hands slapping the taut animal skin.

It wasn't until he turned into the increasingly familiar streets of my neighborhood that I sat up straighter in my seat and began to take notice of my surroundings. Jacob unknowingly turned down Laurent's street, passing the now strangely quiet house, instantly triggering a rash of panicky feelings – sweat collected on my brow, my stomach churned, my breath hitching in my throat.

I forced my gaze away from the house, resting my eyes instead on Jacob's profile, his sheet of black hair wrapped behind his ear, accenting the sharpness of his high cheekbones. Even in the faint glow of the streetlights I could see the warm fire in his skin. When I looked at him now, I felt like I knew him so much better, that somehow visiting the reservation allowed me a deeper glimpse into who this boy was. I could see pride and strength in the way he held his wide shoulders, the pressure he felt to succeed, to be a leader – not just for himself, but for the whole of his tribe - in the crease of his strong brow.

He must have noticed me gawking at him because he turned to me and smiled.

"See something you like, Swan?" he asked, raising his eyebrows salaciously, his lips curled in a broad smirk.

"Um…uh…um," I stuttered, trying to buy myself time.

"I'm just joking, Bella. Don't freak out," he said, placing his hand on my knee and squeezing.

I jumped a little in surprise, still not comfortable with his casual touches. I thought he was largely harmless, but I couldn't help my instinct to recoil. Edward was the only one I ever wanted to touch me this way. Just thinking of him ruined all other men for me. If things were different, if I hadn't met _him_ first, I might feel differently about Jacob's hand on my knee. All I could think of though, was that there was somebody out there for him, somebody who would like his hand on their knee. And then it hit me, like a lightening storm in my brain – red bouncing curls – Victoria. I owed her and _she liked Jacob._

"Hey Jacob?" I asked, revived by the idea taking shape in my brain.

"Yep," he answered as he pulled up to my house and killed the engine.

"Um, Jacob, are you and Billy coming over next week? I mean, for baseball?"

"Yeah, I think so. Probably on Tuesday night; the Mariners are playing the A's. It should be good."

"Oh, cool," I replied, plotting the events of the night in my brain.

I reached for the door handle, but turned back to Jacob before getting out of the car. He was looking at me eagerly and I hoped that my plan for Tuesday would squash any hopes he had concerning me.

"Well, I guess I'll see you then. And Jacob…thank you so much for taking me to the reservation tonight. It was really…great."

"Hey, no problem, Bella. Did you get enough info for your article?"

"Yes, I think so. I need to go inside and write it all down before I forget anything."

"Well, if you do, you can always ask my dad on Tuesday, right?" he offered so earnestly that I almost felt guilty for scheming behind his back.

"Yeah, sure," I answered, stepping out of the car. I leaned in to the open door before turning away. "Thanks again. See you Tuesday!"

I got to the hospital early and waited in the parking lot for Victoria's mother to drop her off. I was hoping that we would have a chance to talk before our meeting tonight. Focusing on my plan to thrust Victoria and Jacob together was helping to keep my nerves in check. I slapped out a rhythm on my thighs as I waited, as I'd unconsciously been doing all day. Though the beat mimicked the frenetic pace of my heart, the air drumming inexplicably calmed me, the spell of the motion concealing my anxiety.

Every time I faltered, slowing down the movement of my hands, Dr. Hale's words kept breaking through the trance to find me and infiltrate my thoughts, reminding me that Dr. Cullen had something different planned for tonight's session. I just couldn't think of what it might be or I'd go crazy with worry, so I kept my hands moving even when my thighs began to tingle uncomfortably. Just as I was beginning to really struggle to keep the errant thoughts from entering my mind, a red BMW pulled up to the front of the building and Victoria jumped out.

She didn't waste time, but started walking quickly and determinedly to the entrance of the building. I immediately swung the door open to my car and yelled at her to stop. She swung around dramatically, looking irritated as she scanned for the owner of the voice. I jumped down from the cab of my truck and ran toward her.

"Bella?" She looked surprised to see me and maybe even a little worried that I was approaching her.

"Uh, how are you? Did you make it home okay the other night?"

"Oh, yeah, um…" I really didn't want to have this conversation with her. I couldn't tell her that Edward – Dr. Cullen – had picked me up from the party.

"Look, I'm sorry I just left you there. I couldn't get in trouble with my mom again. And I really thought that your friend…Alice, right…well, that she would pick you up and… nothing happened, did it? Shit!" I watched her as she got more and more flustered, her face turning red, a tear slipping down her face.

I reached out to stop her frantic rambling, grasping her arm. "Victoria, I'm fine. Okay? You were great. You helped me. And I made it hope in one piece. Thank you," I said in a hushed voice, staggered by the surge of raw emotion that welled inside of me, causing a few tears to escape and spill over down my cheeks.

"Oh, okay," she said, relieved, composing herself quickly. "We should go in then," she added, moving toward the door as if she was filing the experience away and putting it behind her.

"No, wait!" I snapped, grabbing her shoulder. She whipped her hair in my face as she turned back to me, quickly replacing her usual look of irritation with surprise. Almost every time we talked I noticed this same reaction, as though she was constantly annoyed by the world, but for some reason, she tolerated me. Perhaps the fact that we knew each other's deepest weaknesses and worst fears made us instantly intimate in a very unique way.

"I wanted to invite you over to my house for dinner on Tuesday night," I blurted awkwardly, dropping my hand from her shoulder.

"Oh, well…" she began, but I cut her off quickly, knowing that I hadn't properly enticed her.

"Jacob's going to be there."

"Really?" Her face lit up, her eyes opening wide.

"I'll be there. No matter what!" she said, almost squealing in happiness.

"Okay…good. Here is the address and my cell phone number. Why don't you come over around six?" I asked, handing her the piece of paper I'd written all the information down on earlier in the day, knowing that she would say yes.

"Yes. Yes, okay!" she squealed again, grabbing my hand, pulling me with her through the door of the building.

When we got to the conference room, Victoria plopped herself down into a chair, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. I could only imagine where her mind had taken her. I sat down next to her and closed my eyes, not wanting to think about being in our therapy session until I absolutely had to. I tried to concentrate on my new relaxation technique: visualizing the drumming circle in my mind, remembering the healing vibration in the room when all our hands and hearts were synchronized in the uplifting, rejuvenating music.

I struggled to hear the beat in my head as bodies shifted around me. I kept my eyes pressed tightly closed, almost as if I could shut out the world, keeping difficult and painful things from occurring. It was getting progressively harder to push reality away, but my eyes fought to stay closed. And then I heard the door swing open and I sensed deep within me that it was _him. _ The rhythmic beat in my head stopped all at once, replaced by a silence so deafening that only hearing _his _voice could fill the emptiness. I couldn't keep my eyes closed if I tried; every part of my body longed for him, urging me to reach out, to grab him, to take him, possess him…make him possess me.

I opened my eyes to see Edward walk into the room and sit down in the chair across the circle from me. His expression was serious and as intense as always. He looked meaningfully down at the ever-present papers in his hands, writing something at the top of the stack before his eyes flitted up, scanning the faces in the room surreptitiously. His gaze stopped abruptly when he found me.

He nodded at me, his lips curling ever so slightly at the corners. I stopped breathing. How is it that I could so easily forget how his beautiful, green eyes rendered me speechless and breathless, as if they were able to constrict my heart with just a heated stare?

I couldn't tear my eyes away from his, returning his stare just as intently. I put all my love and all my feelings into my gaze, knowing that it was the only way I could tell him how I felt. But what were his eyes telling me? It felt like reassurance, sympathy - not love. I blinked and turned away at this realization.

Everything about this man confused me. I so wished that his kindness toward me was a sign of deeper feelings; and yet, I suspected he was simply a good person. His eyes always seemed to be speaking something to me; however, could I be reading more into his penetrating stare than there truly was?

"Let's get started," Edward said in his smooth voice, awakening me from my dazed, torturous thoughts. I looked around the room to see that everyone was situated as they were normally. Laurent had his hoodie pulled especially low around his face, James was wriggling around uncomfortably in his seat as always, and Victoria was filing her nails, looking disinterested.

"First of all, let's go around the circle and check in with everyone. Then, we're going to try something a little different. Laurent, you start, is there anything you want to share? Your father came home, right? How has that been?" He turned a piercing stare on Laurent, his eyes fiery with anger, though his voice was just as even as always. Everyone turned to Laurent, waiting for his response.

Laurent nervously sat up straighter, rubbing his palms along his thighs. "I got in trouble," he mumbled, looking at the floor. We were all silent, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't Edward prompted him.

"Why?" he asked, succinctly.

"I, um, I…had a party, and I wasn't supposed to…I kind of passed out and I didn't clean up before my parents got home. My dad was pretty mad."

"It's not my job to police you, Laurent, or to lecture you about partying, but can I ask you, what made you think it was a good idea to have a party the night before your dad was released from jail?" Edward asked evenly, his opinion on the matter hidden by his placid tone. I inhaled a shallow breath, waiting tensely to see how Laurent would respond.

"Well, um, I was…I thought…I wanted…uh, I guess I wasn't thinking," Laurent stammered.

"How did it turn out? Was it a good party? Was it worth getting in trouble?" Edward fired questions at him and I felt the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms bristle as if every word out of Edward's mouth was, at its core, directed at me. My palms began to sweat, and as I began to run my hands nervously down my thighs, wiping the moisture off on my jeans, Victoria piped up.

"The party sucked, okay? It was lame," she announced petulantly.

All eyes shot in her direction and even Edward looked taken aback by her statement.

"Alright Victoria, would you like to elaborate?" Edward asked her, his voice less certain.

"There weren't any cute guys there – just a bunch of creepy, older guys…and well…for some of us, the night just sucked." Her eyes flitted to me and I quickly looked away, down at my hands in my lap. I could feel more than just her eyes on me and I cringed, wanting more than ever to disappear, but I seemed to have lost the ability to become invisible. "That's all," Victoria said with finality, her expression fierce, challenging anyone in the room to doubt her.

"And who else went to this party?" Edward asked and I could feel the pull of his gaze on me. I looked up just in time to see him wrench his eyes away from my direction and focus them on James. "James?"

"Um, yeah, I went," he admitted, clearing his throat loudly and wriggling nervously. "It was cool, I guess," he added when he noticed that Dr. Cullen was expecting more from him.

"This isn't exactly what I'm looking for," Edward said, running his hand through his hair. He sighed exasperatedly, momentarily losing his normally impenetrable veneer of composure. "I'm not asking for you to rate the party. I want you all to consider the wisdom in having the party in the first place. One of the things that I have been trying to impress on all of you…and that you all should know – _more _than other kids your age – is that there are…consequences to your actions – to every choice you make." He scanned the room breathlessly, now clearly angry, his hands clenching and unclenching in his hair, making it look more crazed and messy than usual.

"Laurent – before you planned this party, didn't you consider that you might get in trouble for it later, or perhaps that someone could have gotten hurt or that maybe you should have invited only people your age…it's inappropriate…it's dangerous…I mean, it could have been…a potentially bad…you need to think of consequences…things like this can follow you…they can effect you in ways you can't imagine now," he rambled, spitting the strings of phrases as if repulsed by the thoughts they conjured in his mind.

As his words became less specific, warped by the emotion behind them, I realized that I was the only other person in the room who understood what he was really talking about. I looked at the others to see that all eyes were staring at Edward, slack-jawed, shaken by his uncharacteristic outburst. This was not the professional, calm doctor that we'd all come to rely upon, but the passionate, emotional man underneath.

I felt my breath come in quick gasps, my chest heaving as I watched him. I wished that I could hug him, hold him, to find some way to absorb some of his anger, his anguish. But I couldn't, and it tore me up inside.

It got very quiet. We waited. Edward dropped his chin to his chest, his hands falling to his thighs, gripping his muscles tightly through his dark washed jeans. I closely watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. James cleared his throat, and not being able to remain still for any small amount of time, began shifting around in his seat.

Edward lifted his shoulders, raising his head slowly, darting his eyes in my direction. "Bel-…I mean, Victoria," he said, adjusting, turning toward her. "Did you make it home from the party ok-ay?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Um, yeah, sure," she answered uneasily, evidently not quite understanding the point of his question.

"Good…um, good," Edward said, shaking his head from side to side, as if he were literally trying to clear his mind this way. He picked up the sheaf of papers he'd earlier abandoned on the chair next to him and started looking them over while we waited for him to continue the discussion. Finally after several minutes of awkward silence, he looked up, renewed determination on his face.

"Laurent, how did your father punish you for having the party?" Edward asked.

"Well, um," Laurent hesitated. "My dad actually wasn't that mad that I'd had the party. He was, well, he was mad that I didn't make any money off of it. Um, he, um, he asked me if I sold any weed."

"Didn't he just get out of jail for possession?" Victoria asked, a pretentious sneer on her face.

"Victoria, it's not your turn to speak," Edward rebuked, his head snapping in her direction.

"Uh, yeah…I guess my dad expected me to keep up the family business while he was away. He was pissed that I didn't have any cash around. Like I'm a failure or something because I'm not as much of a badass as him," Laurent continued.

"Normally, I would ask you how your father's words made you feel and we would discuss these feelings as a group, but tonight we are going to do something different," Edward explained flatly, standing abruptly and walking toward the door. "Just give me a moment and I'll be right back." He opened the door and peered out into the hallway before it closed behind him.

James leaned in toward Laurent, whispering urgently. I only heard a few words, but they were enough to know that James was pissed. "Stupid," "jail," and "trouble" echoed around the otherwise silent room, sandwiched between his stilted gestures and impassioned mumbles.

Victoria turned to me, rolling her eyes, irritated with things as usual. She grabbed her purse off of the floor, her forearm entirely buried in the huge bag, as she concentrated on finding something that seemed to be evading her grasp. Finally her arm emerged with a bruised package of gum. She pulled out a slice, popping it in her mouth, at the last second thinking of me and holding the package up in offer.

"No thank you," I said quietly, my eyes immediately snapping up to the door as it creaked open, Edward with Dr. Hale behind him, slinking into the room. Her eyes found mine, and underneath the kindness and compassion in her expression, glinted a secret, indefinable message.

"Dr. Hale has agreed to help us with our exercise tonight. Instead of a circle, we are going to pair off into groups. Laurent, I want you to work with James. Victoria, you will be partners with Dr. Hale." James' face fell when he realized he wasn't going to pair off with Rosalie. But I hardly noticed, because through the process of elimination, I had already figured out that I was going to be paired off with Edward. "And Bella will work with me," he added lightly under his breath, almost as if speaking only to himself.

"I want you to turn your chairs so that you are facing one another." He pulled two chairs out on his edge of the circle and oriented them so that they were open to each other. He angled his head toward me briefly and waved me over. I awkwardly stood and ambled across the room, nervously sitting in one of the chairs, while the rest of the group shifted around, positioning themselves in their respective corners of the room.

Edward circled the room while he explained the exercise further and our eyes followed him as he paced. "We're going to be doing some role playing. Sometimes it's impossible for us to tell the most important people in our lives how we feel. Especially when we're hurting and we feel vulnerable. Each of us has things that we wish that we could say, things that we're afraid to say, but in the safety of this room, this group, we can say what whatever we want – without any repercussions.

"So I want you to pretend that the person you're with is your dad or your mom - whoever you feel like you need it to be - and tell them everything that you're feeling. Don't hold back. Laurent, pretend that James is your dad and tell him that you're mad or disappointed or frustrated. And then after about fifteen minutes or so, we'll switch and James can have a turn. I know this is different, but let's give it a try, okay?" he asked, his footfalls landing next to the chair across from mine.

He dropped down into the chair, his gaze still not on mine, but warily scanning the other groups. "Do you guys have any questions?" No one spoke up, but I could see the scowl on Victoria's face as she turned to face Dr. Hale. "Okay, begin by telling the person you're with who they are so they can get into their role and then give them a piece of your mind."

Edward finally turned away from the others. I suspected that he was looking at me, but my eyes were fixed on my lap so I couldn't be sure. I was both exhilarated and terrified of this exercise. I felt like he'd reached into my mind and plucked his words from my brain. I was hurting and vulnerable, but the important person who I couldn't talk to, who I couldn't tell my innermost feelings to – was him. This was torture.

"Bella…Bella," Edward said softly, drawing my gaze to him. His hand was outstretched almost as if he wanted to touch me. I gasped involuntarily and his hand dropped heavily in his lap, consternation marring his perfect features. He began to speak, his eyes occasionally darting around the room to ensure that no one was listening. Though I caught Dr. Hale looking in our direction a few times, the others actually seemed to be engrossed in their artificial conversations.

"I couldn't think of any other way to talk with you then to concoct this role playing ruse," he admitted, completely catching me off guard. My heart started to beat so intensely that I could barely focus on his words, concentrating instead on the closeness of his body, our knees nearly touching.

"Bella, please look at me," Edward pleaded, but now that he was directly in front of me, I was too nervous and insecure to look in his eyes. My body betrayed my reaction, my face flushed with embarrassment, my stomach fluttering almost audibly.

"I needed to apologize to you," he whispered, leaning forward, his fingers ghosting across my knee.

"No, no," I blurted ineffectually, but I didn't want him to be sorry for anything.

"Yes, I do. I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust. But I had to send Rosalie to see you. I had to be sure that you were okay, that you hadn't been…been violated. I just didn't know how to ask you…I didn't want you to be embarrassed…because I'm a ma-…because I'm your doctor. You're not mad, are you Bella?"

I wanted so badly to answer, the words on my tongue, but I was completely entranced by how my name fell from his lips and by the remorseful expression on his beautiful face. He took my muteness as a sign of anger.

"Are you mad, Bella? Please tell me you understand why I did what I did," he begged.

"Yes, I understand," I said, finding my voice. I had to ease his conscience. I couldn't stand him feeling bad on my account. "I understand why you told her. But I'm okay. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I'm okay," I reiterated.

"Bella, somehow I think I will always worry about you," he stated, running his hand through his hair. I felt a warm cloud of hope bloom in my chest at his admission. "I feel very protective of you," he whispered so low I barely heard him.

"Dr. Cullen," James yelled, interrupting our intense interlude. "Can we switch now?"

"Um, yes James. Go ahead," Edward answered before returning his eyes to my face. He looked at me as if fascinated. It was as if he was searching for something specific in me and I was terrified that I couldn't deliver whatever it was that he wanted. I was forced to look away in shame.

"I make you nervous," Edward stated plainly. "I don't mean to, Bella. There is just something about you…that…oh never mind," he said, frustrated.

"Thank you," I blurted to divert attention away from his last statement, which I couldn't even begin to comprehend.

"What…what for?" he asked.

"For taking me home and taking care of me," I murmured, looking around the room to see if anyone was paying attention to the very personal words stumbling from my mouth.

"You're welcome," he said smiling genuinely with his whole face, and for a moment I felt complete – _whole_ - as if nothing could stain my happiness. I put the smile on his face. _Me._

"Have you thought about telling Charlie about what happened?" he asked gravely, and then leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You were _drugged_, Bella! You can help to make sure that it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"I know," I said, looking down at my hands, lamenting that our moment was over. "I will tell him. Soon, I promise," I said, all of a sudden feeling young and naïve and ridiculous for loving the man in front of me so desperately.

I felt mad and sad and pathetic. Tears were inevitable. I tried to keep them at bay, but they came anyway, spilling silently out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Bella, please don't cry. It will all be okay. I'll help. I'll be there whenever you need me," Edward declared.

I'm not sure what came over me – perhaps a moment of madness – but I locked my eyes with him and asked him the question that I should never have asked.

"Do you promise?"

And then the unthinkable happened. He reached out his long fingers and touched his hand to mine. His fingertips hesitated briefly on the back of my hand, as if he was anticipating the contact as much as I was. All in one motion, he pulled my hand out of my lap, carefully encasing it within his, as if he were holding a wounded bird. His skin was smooth and cool and though he was gentle, his touch was electrifying. It was almost as though I could sense the effervescent energy and power that brewed just underneath the surface of his skin.

His thumb rubbed soothing circles into my palm as he looked deeply into my eyes. Time stopped. I held my breath. And then Edward said the two words that would bind him to me forever, "I promise."

End Notes:

Thank you all for reading and leaving such fantastic reviews. I cherish them!

I spent the last few days reading And With Thee Fade Away by Derdriu oFaolain. If you haven't already read it, you should. It's got an entirely unique slant on the original tale, with its own mythology and one of the sexiest Edward vamps I've ever read.

Please leave me some feedback! I want to know what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

**The past few weeks this little story has seen quite a jump in new readers. I can't thank those of you who have been rec'ing my story enough! And I love all your reviews – they make me so happy and make me want to write all day long every day! If only real life didn't get in the way! **

**Ms. ambrosia – I love you! Your friendship has been one of the best things to come to me from getting involved in the crazy and obsessive world of fanfiction. And your beta skills aren't so shabby either.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't.**

Love Lost and Unrequited

Rather than setting my mind at ease, Edward's words - his promise - haunted me, lingering in my thoughts at all times. Somehow knowing that he was there for me -knowing that he cared for me - opened a floodgate of feelings that I had been suppressing. Even though I was comforted by his words, I inexplicably also felt more lonely, more lost than ever before.

And when I thought of how he held my hands, how he'd reached out to me, it all seemed more like a dream than reality. I was too overwhelmed by his actions to fully experience them. I tried to remember how his skin felt, how his eyes burned into me, but the memory was already slipping from my mind.

When I lay in my bed that night, I ran my hands over my body - along the peaks of my breasts, across the sharp bones on my hips, down the soft flesh of my thighs - pretending they were his. I struggled to recreate the feeling of his hands on me and the tingling energy of his touch. When I closed my eyes I could almost see his searing gaze, pregnant with unsaid emotions.

When sleep finally came to me I clung to my memories of Edward, but they drifted into the ether. Instead, I dreamed all night of my mother – vivid, gut-wrenching, lucid dreams that left me feeling guilty and remorseful. I couldn't remember any of the finer details, the way she looked, what she was doing, or the words she said, but the damage was still complete. The dreams were a reminder that there was a raw, gaping hole in my heart that hadn't even begun to start healing.

The dreams were distracting, disturbing, causing errant thoughts to drift through my mind throughout the day. When I was washing dishes, I looked down at my soapy fingers and all at once remembered Renee's small hands, stained by cigarettes, wrinkled by time, but strong and pretty.

During a particularly dull lecture in history class on the American Revolution, my mind wandered to a time when I had fallen asleep with gum in my mouth and woken up with a gooey wad of it stuck in my hair. Renee spent all day trying to get it out with ice and a stiff comb rather than cut it out. I cried through the whole ordeal, but she never gave up, remaining calm and persistent, and eventually saving my long wavy hair.

My math teacher wore a purple sweater to school that instantly reminded me of a sweater that Renee used to have. It looked old-fashioned, like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn in Funny Face when she danced with Fred Astaire. It had little silver beads sewn into the scalloped collar. Renee loved it and wore it often - even on the hottest days of summer – so that the edges grew frayed, the elbows thinning until they were nearly transparent. When I thought of Renee it was often with this very sweater on.

I missed the sweater. I missed her pretty hands and her calm touch.

I found tears welling up in my eyes at the most inopportune times: when I was walking down the busy hallway at school or when I was looking at myself in the mirror in the girl's bathroom or even when we were reading aloud _The Death of a Salesman_ in English class. I hated feeling so emotional, each time quietly wiping away the tears before they fell, swallowing heavily against the heartache.

It was at times like these that school seemed meaningless. And yet I welcomed the distraction. Even Victoria's strange behavior and newfound interest in me at school helped to keep my mind from dwelling on dark thoughts. I was utterly perplexed when she "accidentally" bumped into me three times, making a grand gesture to say hello in front of many witnesses.

I didn't know if she thought I would forget that I'd invited her over or if she was genuinely trying to be friendlier. Regardless of her motivation, these accidental meetings were surprising and awkward and left me feeling tenser than ever. Every time I walked around a corner I felt like someone was going to jump out at me.

She even stopped by to say hello at lunchtime. Alice and I were eating at our normal table in the cafeteria, talking about Jasper when Victoria approached. Alice had been putting on a brave front, unsuccessfully pretending that she wasn't devastated that Jasper was gone. After several minutes of trying to convince me that she was feeling fine, she broke down and admitted that she was miserable without Jasper.

"I just love him so much. It's like the other half of me is gone when he's not here. I don't want to be so ridiculous about him, but I can't help it," she explained as she stabbed a perfectly cubed piece of mango with her fork and placed it on her tongue. I was mesmerized by her dark and heavily lined eyes as she talked, her fake eyelashes nearly grazing her eyebrows each time she blinked.

I wished that I could have confessed to Alice that I could relate to her feelings, that I was so in love with a man that I was just as ridiculous as she was. That I longed to be with him always and that it hurt to be away from him. I was even more ridiculous than her - pathetic even - because the man I was in love with couldn't possibly return my feelings. Before I lost my nerve, I carefully and subtly tried to lure her to the subject that was closest to my heart.

"How is your family?" I asked, my eyes fixed like lasers on my peanut butter sandwich.

"Oh, they're good, I guess," she answered, apparently oblivious to my ulterior motive for asking. "Rosalie seems a little depressed lately – and tense…and she and Edward were arguing last night, which is weird because they always get along."

"That is weird," I agreed, all at once losing my appetite and shoving the remainder of my sandwich back into the plastic baggie.

"I think Edward pissed her off or something," she speculated. "He was really worked up last night. I was trying to do my French homework in my room and he started pounding on my door, almost scaring me to death. He came in and paced around like he was crazy, ranting about boys and drugs and parties." She shook her in disbelief. "I swear sometimes I just don't get him."

"Huh?" I responded, as if I had no idea what she was talking about, looking down again lest my blushing face betray my feelings to her. And yet, I didn't know how to feel about this news. I wanted Edward to be thinking about me, but maybe he was only worried that the same thing could happen to someone else – to Alice - and he wanted to prevent it. It didn't have anything to do with me. He was just a good person. A good man.

He had already shown me that he was a good man, but when he pulled Laurent aside at the end of our session last night, I worried once again if I could trust him. At the time, I couldn't stop my mind from panicking at what he would say, if my name would be mentioned, or if Laurent would hate me forever for getting him in trouble. But none of that happened. Edward proved to me again that I should have trusted him, that he never would do anything to hurt me.

I knew that I should have left when Edward began talking and given them some privacy, but my feet decided not to move, my knees locked as though wooden. I hovered around my seat, snatching at the few snippets of conversation that drifted my way. I pretended to dig through my bag searching for something while I listened, my fingers fumbling across my car keys, a small brush, a tube of lip gloss, my cell phone.

"Laurent…disappointed…heard that…and drugs." I greedily absorbed what I could hear of Edward's hushed words, grasping my cell phone in my fingers and pulling it out of my bag. I dropped my eyes to the screen, pushing random buttons, all my concentration on the conversation on the other side of the room. "Convince you that you…and if you tell me…who…invite…party…you will end up responsible…happens again…some girl…rape."

My eyes shot across the room and I noticed for the first time that Rosalie was also listening to the conversation, her eyes riveted to Edward's back. She visually flinched at Edward's last word.

Laurent kept nodding, no words coming from his mouth, a penitent frown on his face. He never looked over at me because Edward never mentioned me. The only indication that I was on his mind was the intense look he shot me as I tiptoed across the room to the door. His agonized gaze emblazoned itself on my brain.

His piercing green stare consumed my thoughts the entire drive home, and for the rest of the night: as I made dinner, did my homework, and brushed my teeth. I could still see his eyes now as if he were standing before me. The thought made me long for him anew. How could I possibly stand to wait another day to see him again?

"I wonder why he was so worked up," Alice mused, wrenching me from my memory. My stomach rumbled uneasily as I struggled to think of a way to distract Alice from her train of thought.

"Did you get to talk to Jasper on the phone last night?"

"Ugh, no," she whined. "They don't get cell phone reception where they're camped. I don't know when I'll get to talk to him again," she lamented.

She was already missing Jasper desperately, and I wondered how she was going to survive the long separation. I respected that Alice was trying to be courageous, but she couldn't hide the deep heartbreak underlying her words and coloring her mood. Even her choice of outfit was fitting, mirroring the dark cloud that had settled over her. Her plain grey dress snuggly hugged her diminutive, but curvy body. The black combat boots she wore seeming to imply that she was taking no prisoners, that she wouldn't hesitate to kick the ass of anyone who dared to cross her.

"I'm so glad that I have you, Bella. Otherwise, life would be unbearable without Jasper," Alice huffed and then her dark eyes widened at something over my shoulder. I pivoted in my seat to see Victoria making a big show of sauntering across the entire stretch of the room in her ridiculously short mini skirt and a tight, red sweater that left nothing to the imagination. She stopped at the edge of our table, looking back and forth at Alice and me as if shocked that we were actually eating during lunchtime. Her eyes lingered on Alice's little boxes, the empty ones stacked inside of one another.

We were both staring up at Victoria from our seats, equally confused by her presence, when she pulled the chair out next to me and sat down. I could feel curious eyes directed at us and I was briefly frustrated with her for drawing attention our way. But when she smiled and placed her arm around the back of my chair, my anger was immediately replaced with shock.

"Hi Bella, hi Alice," she said.

Alice's eyes grew wide before she quietly replied with a snarky "Hi."

"Um, hi Victoria. Uh, what's up?" I asked.

"I just thought I'd come say hi. I don't really know why we don't talk more at school, do you?" she asked, a forced, crooked smile curling the edges of her lips.

I was more confused by her attitude than her words. The absence of her irritated glare and usual bitchiness was unsettling. I didn't recognize this new Victoria.

"No," I answered, even though I was pretty sure why we didn't talk at school. I searched Alice's face for help, but she was doing her best to ignore the fact that Victoria was sitting with us.

"Maybe I could eat lunch with you guys some day," she offered, and for a quick moment her smile dropped and I could sense her vulnerability. She was reaching out to me – to us – and I was so taken aback I didn't respond.

Alice cleared her throat and my eyes fell to her in time to see her plaster a fake smile on her face before answering, "Sure thing."

"Oh, well, okay. I'll see you guys around." Victoria sprung up from the table happily and nearly skipped back across the room. I was still looking after her in confusion when Alice's voice pulled me back to earth.

"What was that about?" she asked. "That was truly weird."

I wavered for a second before I decided that I should confide in Alice my plans to fix up Victoria and Jacob. I realized that this meant I also needed to tell her what had happened on Saturday night. But I couldn't tell her about her brother's involvement or Rosalie's even. I wondered if she even knew the whole story about what had happened to Rosalie. I couldn't be the one to tell her; it wasn't my secret, it wasn't my past. I would have to be careful about what I said, because I didn't want to lie to her.

"I'm trying to fix Victoria up with Jacob."

"What? Why?" Alice asked, her eyebrows arching up toward her hairline.

"Um…you know that party I went to on Saturday night?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I kind of ate some cookies that had something in them – some kind of drug – and I…almost…um…it could have been bad…and Victoria helped me. She helped me get out of there. And now I feel like I owe her."

"Wait a minute," she blurted angrily. "You got in trouble at the party and you didn't call me," she fumed. "I could have helped you. Why didn't you tell me? You should have called…oh, wait…you did call me…oh my god, Bella. I'm so sorry. I'm such a horrible friend." Her face fell, her eyes filling with tears that began to slip silently down her face. I reached out and grasped her hand.

"It's okay, Alice. It all worked out okay."

"I'm a shitty friend. I feel so bad. You're really okay?" she asked.

"Yes," I said with certainty.

"And Victoria really helped you out?" she asked incredulously. "I thought she was as selfish and vapid as all the others," she admitted, shaking her head from side to side.

"Well, we kind of know each other…from therapy," I explained quietly and I could see the change in her expression as she comprehended what I'd revealed to her. She nodded and looked down at her hands as if processing all the new information.

She popped a pistachio into her mouth as her eyes returned to me with a new fervor. "So, why Jacob?"

"Apparently, he's Victoria's dream guy."

"Oh, really? Well, I guess he is good looking. What's your plan? How are you going to get them together?"

"Jacob and his dad are coming over for dinner tonight and I invited Victoria to come. And I don't know…I just was hoping they'd, you know…"

"No, what?" she interrupted, crunching another pistachio with her teeth, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Her mood had shifted and she seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Just start liking each other, I guess," I spluttered.

"That's not a very good plan, Bella," she criticized lightly. Just then the bell rang announcing the end of our lunch period. Alice stood and began to pack away her lunch containers. When she finished she looked up at me, her expression serious. "You need to come up with a plan. Something that will force them to interact," she offered as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

We walked silently down the hallway together toward our next classes, Alice's words stewing in my brain. She was right. I needed to come up with an idea, a way to draw Jacob and Victoria together. I couldn't just leave it up to chance, or to Victoria, but I had to come up with something that would help Jacob to see Victoria in the best light. Too bad I didn't know enough about her to sell her properly. And what I did know about her, I honestly didn't like very much.

I was walking to my truck after school when I got the distinct feeling that I was being followed. I could hear the shuffling of someone's shoes directly behind me, instantly setting me on edge and causing me to speed up my stride. I was still several feet away when I felt the urge to launch myself to the safety of my truck. But before I could take off in a sprint, a firm hand latched itself onto my shoulder, forcing me to stop and rotate to acknowledge them.

I half expected it to be Victoria, but when I saw it wasn't her, but a very good-looking boy with an arrogant smirk on his face, I jumped backward in surprise. I nearly crashed onto the pavement when a hand shot out to grab my elbow and I found myself looking straight up into the boy's face. I flinched at the self-important look he threw at me, attempting to subtly wrench my arm free from his oily fingers. I tore my eyes from his stare, fixing them instead on his blindingly blond hair, its tight waves rippling in the wind, as he forcefully righted me to my feet. I leaned away from him, instantly uncomfortable by his close proximity and over-eager hands on my arm.

"Bella, I've been meaning to introduce myself," he declared with a pomposity that assumed I knew who he was. I looked back at him blankly, edging a few small steps back toward my car.

"I'm Mike Newton," he said, smiling widely, searching my face for a sign of recognition. "I saw you at Laurent's party on Saturday night. It was a great party, huh?" he asked. I could only nod in response, wondering why he was singling me out. Unfortunately, I did recognize him – it was hard not too. He was definitely the most popular boy in the school, constantly surrounded by admirers, both male and female, his name on everyone's lips in the halls. As far as I could tell, his popularity was based solely on his looks and not any other obvious redeeming qualities.

"Good thing I was here to save you, huh? I'm like a knight in shining armor or some shit like that," he declared. I hoped that my face didn't reveal my dislike for him.

I couldn't think of any reason why he was interested in me nor could I find anything even remotely interesting about him. Whereas Edward exuded kindness and sensuality, this boy was shallow high school royalty, taking every advantage his good looks afforded him. I was wracking my brain for some way to extricate myself from his attention when a scrawny, dark-skinned boy with wire-rimmed glasses, dressed in what appeared to be a vintage three-piece suit and carrying a briefcase approached, clearing his throat nervously.

The boy looked vaguely familiar, despite his strange attire. I was trying to place his face when he stepped closer and interrupted.

"Um, hey Bella, remember me?" he stuttered uncomfortably. Mike's eyes flashed at the boy angrily and took a step toward him threateningly. The boy's eyes anxiously flitted from Mike's to mine and I could see tenacity and determination flicker in them. Mike towered over the boy, leaning in toward him as a show of intimidation, but the boy held his ground. Clearing his throat again, he held my gaze and quietly added, "You know, from the reservation? You probably don't remember my name, I'm Seth."

"Oh, yes," I said, realizing that he was one of the boys who I'd met on Sunday. He sat across from me at the drum circle. His hands were in my sight line and I'd actually spent most of the time following his rhythm, the dance of his long hands on the drum. It was hard to reconcile the easygoing Native American boy from the community center with the shy but resolute boy in front of me, but they were certainly the same. At the reservation, Seth seemed comfortable, casual, one of the gang. Here, he was entirely different person and I couldn't help but wonder who he really was.

"Seth, Bella and I were talking," Mike said rudely and if I wasn't imagining things, I could have sworn he puffed his chest forward, like a bird brandishing his feathers.

"Oh actually," I said, thinking quickly, tugging on Seth's arm. "I needed to ask Seth something about last weekend." I turned away from Mike Newton, not waiting for his response and started walking toward my car, twisting Seth's coat in my fingers so that he followed.

As soon as we were in the shelter of my truck I retracted my sweaty fingers, releasing Seth from my hold.

"I'm sorry I didn't come say hi sooner, Bella. I could see that Mike Newton was making you uncomfortable," Seth apologized, blushing. I marveled at his perceptiveness, wondering how long he'd been watching me and what else he had noticed.

"Thank you. What is the matter with that guy?" I asked, shuddering at the memory of his advances.

"Most girls at this school fawn all over him like he's dipped in gold. I think it's more like aluminum or even some sort of polycarbonate…because you know, he's um, like…transparent."

"Oh, um, yeah," I replied.

"Sorry, I have a weird sense of humor," he said. "It comes with the skinny, awkward package," he explained, breaking into a big, toothy grin, his arm sweeping through the air over his body like a game show host presenting the winner's big prize. "Anyway, you can't blame Mike, he's not used to anyone spurning his advances," he said with a surprisingly straight face.

"Spurning his advances?" I asked with a giggle, all of a sudden realizing that Seth's language actually matched his clothes.

"You know, a deliberate slight…the cold shoulder, the freeze out, the big brush off…"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, now genuinely laughing. "Well, regardless, thank you for coming to my rescue. I'd much rather spend my time talking with you than him any day," I admitted with levity.

"Thank you, Bella," Seth whispered, more moved by my admission than I would have expected.

"So why don't you go to school with Jacob on the reservation?" I asked, opening the door to my truck and dumping my bag and all my books on the seat in my car.

"Um, it's kind of complicated," he said humbly, blushing.

"Complicated how?"

"I guess I have pretty high test scores…and the res school doesn't offer the college prep classes that I wanted. And there are a few teachers at Forks High who are willing to help me with my independent studies."

"Wow! That's really so cool, Seth," I said, thinking that he, like Alice, was a truly unique person and I already felt comfortable around him. Seth blushed at my exclamation, his glasses slipping as he dipped his head.

"Well, it's really nothing. I miss the guys on the res, but I have to look to my future too," he mumbled unassumingly, pushing his glasses nervously up his nose. "Jake has football and I'm certain that he'll succeed. But I'm forced to explore other avenues for my future," he added as if trying to justify his decisions. It seemed as if he'd given the speech before.

"I understand, Seth," I placed my hand on his arm. "And I'm glad you're at this school." I smiled and hopped up into the cab of my truck. His mention of Jacob reminded me that I had to hurry off to the store. I'd come up with a plan for tonight and even though it was a pretty weak one, I still hoped for success.

I was getting antsy waiting for Victoria to arrive. I'd already cleaned my room and tidied up the living room, refolding the old throw on the back of the couch three times. Charlie had gotten home early about an hour ago, heading into his room to change out of his uniform and shower. When he emerged and dropped into his chair in front of the television, his finger immediately sought the remote, flipping back and forth through channels, unable to commit to either the basketball game on one or the end of a baseball game on the other.

"Charlie…Dad?" I stuttered. "I, um, invited a friend over tonight. Is it alright if she stays for dinner?"

Charlie's fingers immediately stilled on the remote, his head swiveling toward me with his full attention. He propped himself up in his chair, his mouth open.

"Really? Who?" He seemed literally stunned that I'd made plans and I couldn't yet tell if he was wary or upset with me.

"Victoria - she's a cheerleader," I said stupidly, latching onto the only safe bit of information I could say about her.

Charlie finally rearranged his features, his lips curling with amusement. "Well sure. Of course you can. That's great, Bella, really. We'll just order another pizza so there's enough for everyone."

"Actually…Dad," I said tremulously, ringing my hands nervously. "I was thinking of making dinner tonight. Would that be okay?"

After leaving Seth in the parking lot at school, I drove to the grocery store to pick up some supplies for dinner. With Alice's words ringing in my ears I came up with a mediocre plan of sorts to draw Jacob and Victoria together – well, at least to force them to spend some time together in the same room.

Instead of the traditional pizza dinner I thought that Jacob, Victoria and I could make dinner. I ran through the grocery store, trying to put together some kind of menu, feeling thoroughly out of my league. I was standing at the meat counter, frantically scanning the slabs of meat on display, the panic beginning to surge through my veins when I heard a lovely voice call out my name. For a brief instant, my twisted mind thought the voice belonged to my mother. In a moment of insanity I swiveled, thinking I'd find Renee behind me to see instead, the kind, lovely face of Esme Cullen.

"Bella dear, are you okay?" she asked, the basket in her arms swinging as she reached out to touch the back of my hand in a consoling gesture.

"Mrs. Cullen?" I squeaked, trying to hide the confusion in my eyes brought on by my short break with reality.

"Oh please Bella, call me Esme," she smiled warmly at me, immediately calming me and making me long for my mother – for what she once was – at the same time. "You seem a little frustrated," she giggled sweetly. "Is there anything I can help you with? I'm pretty good at meal planning…I did go to culinary school, remember?" she asked kindly and without conceit.

"Well…Esme, thank you, I could use some help. I'm making dinner for my dad and some friends and I've never really done anything like this before and I don't know what to buy and I'm not sure that I know what I'm doing," I rambled, not taking a breath and dramatically inhaling a deep gulp of air when I'd finished.

She giggled again, but it was so genuine and sweet that I didn't take offense, but found myself laughing along with her.

"Sorry, I'm a little overwhelmed," I explained.

"Don't worry, Bella, we'll figure something out that will be easy and taste wonderful," she assured me, her eyes beginning to study the cuts of meat behind the counter. After several minutes of looking, her face scrunched up in thought and she turned to me abruptly as if she'd been hit with an idea.

"I bet you have a ton of fish in your freezer!" she said excitedly.

"Um, yeah, we probably do," I agreed.

"You should make fish and chips, Charlie would love that!" she exclaimed, grasping my hand and pulling me down an aisle with her. "Let's see, you'll need bread crumbs and some potatoes, eggs for the batter, butter, oh you can use some beer in the batter too…and you'll need some lemon, and…hmm, what about dessert?" she asked, her mind working in overdrive.

"Yes, I'd like to make dessert too," I answered, scurrying up next to her.

"I know just the thing. Did you see the strawberries in the produce department? They look delicious and they're perfect for strawberry shortcake," she declared with certainty.

"Oh, Esme, I don't know," I murmured worriedly. "That sounds a little challenging."

"No no, we'll do the easy version," she reassured, tapping me lightly on the hand and accidentally hitting me with her basket. She was so distracted by the task at hand that she didn't notice and continued thinking aloud. "We'll just buy some pound cake or some biscuits, depending on whether you want to go with a more traditional method or an American bastardization of the recipe – it really doesn't matter; they both taste wonderfully good. And then we'll just get some pre-made whipped cream. I usually like to make my own, but it's not necessary. All you'll need to do is cut the strawberries and then construct them – a little cake on the bottom, strawberries in the middle, whipped cream on the top – viola!" she said, her hand waving a little flourish in the air.

Esme's enthusiasm was infectious and I soon found myself forgetting my trepidation, getting swept up into the moment with her. I actually had a wonderful time following Esme through the grocery store as she dumped item after item into my cart, spewing bits of recipes at me bit by bit. I couldn't remember a time when I'd shopped with such abandon, and felt so excited about cooking. Unfortunately, my brief happiness evaporated when I pushed the cart up to the register and the weary, elderly cashier began to ring up my purchases.

The total quickly surpassed the amount of money that I had to spend on dinner and I frantically began to calculate what I could do without and put back on the shelves when Esme walked up and slapped her credit card down on the counter. I tried futilely to protest, but Esme completely ignored me, signing her name to the receipt and shaking her head.

"You never would have bought half of these ingredients if it weren't for me, so there is no way I could in good conscience let you pay for them, Bella. Besides, I owe your father a nice dinner for all the help he has done for our family. Emmett wouldn't be the man he is without Charlie. And Rosalie…well…we can never repay him for how much he's done," she looked at me knowingly, her eyes glassy, as if to tell me without words that she knew Rosalie had confided in me.

We walked out of the store together after she'd paid for her few items. She walked me to my truck, insisting on helping me heave my bags into the back. Before she headed to her car she reached out and hugged me, her thin arms filling me with more warmth and comfort than I ever remembered feeling. She grasped my chin, raising my face to catch her gaze. "There is something special about you, Bella Swan, and I know that some day you're going to believe it yourself."

She turned away then, calling over her shoulder, "Have a fabulous dinner…and don't forget to take the fish out of the freezer right when you get home." I watched as her slim, elegant body slipped gracefully down into her car before I climbed up into my truck.

I drove home high on the lingering warmth of the enigmatic and kind woman who I was just beginning to know. She was, without a doubt, one of the loveliest and most intriguing people I'd ever met – much like Edward and Alice. With a mother like Esme, it was easy to understand why they were both so amazing.

**Hey, if you are interested in reading something a little different and want something else to read between updates, please check out my other story – The Innocent Heart of Darkness. **

**Thanks so much for choosing to read this story! I appreciate your reviews!**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: This chapter is a little fluffier than most, but I thought it would be nice to turn down the intensity a few notches before we get into the real meat of the story in the next few chapters. **

**Thank you so much to all of you who are reading and reviewing. I feel like I have the very best readers! And so many of you are rec'ing the story and telling your fanfic friends – I'm so thankful for you all and honored! **

**ms. ambrosia, you are beyond fantastic! You keep blowing my mind with all your talents! **

**And thank you so much to itsanewday, who made me a new beautiful banner for this story. I love it so much!**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I just put Bella in therapy with a doctor who is too sexy for his own good.**

The Right Ingredients

Jacob was waving a large butcher knife in the air while he talked. I thought it would be safe having him cut up some lettuce and some vegetables for a salad, but he spent more time talking and brandishing the large knife than chopping.

Before Victoria came over I'd gotten all the ingredients out for dinner, lining them up on the counter. When I had everything organized, all the labels turned forward, the defrosted fish on a dish, and the strawberries washed, I sat down at the kitchen table and jotted down a few notes. I wracked my brain to come up with at least a couple of subjects that we could talk about that seemed like safe and expandable topics. I wanted to avoid awkward silence at all costs. I remembered what Seth had said earlier in the parking lot about Jacob and football so I scribbled _FOOTBALL_ at the top of the list in bold letters.

Little did I know how much Jacob had to say about football, and his team, and the condition of the field, his coach, various teammates, college scouts, etc. etc. etc. Eventually he abandoned the knife altogether, resting the back of his thighs against the countertop, and pelting us with tale after tale of his exploits on the football field.

His words didn't make much sense to me, having not seen even one football game in my entire life. Instead I concentrated on cutting the thawed fish into smaller pieces, using a small pair of tongs to pull out the larger pieces of bone. Occasionally, I glanced at Victoria to see how she was faring. I had given her the task of slicing the strawberries and was surprised to find that she was meticulously sifting through each berry, carefully examining them before reducing them into equal sized portions.

Ultimately, her movements slowed to a standstill, her body turned toward Jacob, her attention openly transfixed on him, and the strawberry in her hand long forgotten. I couldn't help but watch her as she watched him. Her face was shamelessly filled with adoration and longing and I wondered if this was the same look I had when I looked at Edward. I worried that my feelings were as obvious, as glaring.

Jacob though, didn't seem anywhere close to understanding what was going on. He continued to address most of his comments and questions to me, largely ignoring Victoria. If he was surprised or even uncomfortable to find her at my house as a dinner guest, he hid his feelings well. He appeared to take the change in stride, not at all ruffled by her presence. In fact, he was much more frustrated that I'd asked him to help in the kitchen than anything else.

As Jacob continued talking I got more and more anxious that my plan was failing. Victoria was uncharacteristically silent, as if struck mute by being in such close proximity to Jacob. And every time I gazed in her direction, I was startled anew with how different she seemed tonight, subdued and almost timid.

Part of the difference was entirely my doing. When Victoria had arrived at my house earlier I realized just how unprepared I was to implement my plan. I opened the door to find Victoria standing on my porch in an incredibly short, red, strapless dress that was so tight that it looked painted on her body. She teetered on shiny, gold high heels that made her at least a few inches taller than normal.

I panicked at the sight of her outfit. She looked more like she was going to a nightclub to go dancing than to help me fry fish for a bunch of guys who were watching baseball. Granted, Jacob would notice her, but I was sure that it wouldn't be for the right reasons. I pulled her through the door before Charlie could see her outfit and question why she was dressed like a hooker. As I shoved her up the stairs to my room, I realized that I hadn't thought everything through; I hadn't taken every conceivable outcome into consideration. I was all at once deeply worried that I just wasn't clever enough to pull this off.

"Victoria, why are you dressed like that?" I asked, bubbles of nervousness fluttering around my stomach.

"I could ask you the same question," she retorted, raising her eyebrows and gesturing toward my clothes. I looked down at my old, faded jeans, the knees so threadbare that my skin peeked through. But my black v-neck t-shirt was new. It may have been plain, but it fit nicely, matching my black Converse, and I felt comfortable. I grimaced at my reflection in the mirror, the messy knot of hair on my head shifting slightly to the side, and knew that she had a point. We were two distinct extremes. She was way too overdressed, and I was too comfortable, making no effort whatsoever.

"You're a little overdressed," I stated, trying to be sensitive.

"I want to look my best for Jacob," she replied, as if it were obvious. She examined herself in the full-length mirror on the back of my door, tugging on the bodice of her dress. She stepped in closer, smacking her lips together to spread her red lipstick evenly, and adjusting the wild strands of her curly hair in place.

"You…you look great," I murmured. "But Jacob is kind of a casual guy…and well, you want him to like you for you, right? Not for how you dress, or…um…you know," I said, struggling for the right words to convince her to change.

"What do you mean?" she said, her composure beginning to crumble. "You don't think he'll like the dress? You think it's too trashy, don't you?" she asked, walking to my bed and collapsing on the edge.

"No, it's a really pretty dress. It's just not…right for tonight."

"Well, what am I going to do?" she asked, waving her hands in the air, her heavily made up face dropping.

"You could borrow some clothes from me," I suggested.

"Oh, okay," she said, jumping up, her expression a little recovered. She tossed off her heels and moved toward my closet.

She hesitated as she scanned the few items I had hanging, the folded piles of t-shirts and jeans on the floor. With an incredulous look on her face she turned back toward me.

"Is this all you have?"

"Yeah, I guess," I answered. "I've never had much. This is more than I've ever had before," I explained.

"We need to go shopping," she said seriously, as if the situation was truly dismal.

"Yeah, okay," I conceded, reaching down to grab my best jeans and a tight navy shirt that I thought would compliment Victoria's ice blue eyes. I placed them in her hands. "Try these on," I suggested.

She retreated to the bathroom with the stack of clothes in her hands. I expected more of a protest, but she shuffled happily off, not appearing to be upset at the turn of events. I was sitting on my bed waiting when I heard the doorbell ring and the muffled voices from downstairs.

Victoria looked both excited and anxious as she stepped back into my room, not even caring about the change in her outfit. "I heard them…he's here," she whispered, standing on her toes and wringing her hands out in front of her.

"Yeah, I heard them too. What size shoe do you wear?" I asked, looking down at her bare feet, the toenails painted the exact shade of red as her bright lips.

"Seven," she answered.

"Here." I handed her the only pair of flats I owned, black leather with red stitching.

"Okay," she said as she slipped them on, turning to the mirror to take in her whole appearance.

"Wow, I look so different," she exclaimed, but she didn't seem unhappy. "My hair's totally messed up," she said, trying to rearrange it back into place.

"Here," I said, grasping a hair tie off of my bedside table and placing it in her hand. She looked at it for a few seconds as if she didn't know what it was for, and then surprisingly, reached up and skillfully pulled her thick mass of red curls into a neat ponytail.

I lunged toward the door, but Victoria reached out and grasped onto my arm. "Wait! Do you think he'll like me?" she asked. I was unused to her insecurity; she always appeared so confident that her vulnerability unnerved me.

"Sure," I replied, hoping that it might be true. "We're going to force Jacob to make dinner with us and we'll just see how it goes, okay?"

"Um, okay…hey, can I have a tissue?" she asked, grabbing one from the box before I could answer. She took one last look in the mirror, using the tissue to wipe the lipstick from her face. "Now, I guess I'm ready," she said, smiling sweetly, and for the first time, I felt a jolt of something like real friendship toward her. As we descended the stairs, I was genuinely hoping that all my scheming in her behalf would work.

Even though we'd been in the kitchen for a half hour, I still couldn't get over how different Victoria seemed in my clothes. Her behavior too, was so different than normal that I was beginning to understand that I only knew one side of her.

Although she seemed like she could listen to Jacob forever, I knew that if I didn't do something we would never finish making dinner and Victoria wouldn't get the opportunity to get any closer to him. I quickly peeled the potatoes, cutting them into long, skinny fries while Jacob continued talking and Victoria ogled him in a slack-jawed trance. I took advantage of the distraction to mix the batter for the fish just as Esme had instructed, with beer, milk and eggs. I created a breading in a second dish out of bread crumbs, flour, salt and pepper and a dash of cayenne pepper.

"Hey, let's do the french fries and fish. Can you guys help?" I asked, as innocently as I could, as if I hadn't been scrambling seconds before to set up an assembly line of sorts.

"Sure, Bella," Jacob said, only rattled for a brief instant at being interrupted in the middle of a story about how a boy from another school had been injured at his last football game. "Anyway, it was just a broken arm," he said, sidling up next to me.

"Oh, good," I replied, scooting farther away. "Um, let's do the french fries first, we can use the same batter for both the fries and the fish. Just skip the breading for the fries."

"Wow, Bella, this looks complicated. You must be a really good cook," Victoria said shyly.

"A friend helped me with the recipe," I said, thinking of Esme, her warm hand on my shoulder, her kind way of walking me through this dinner while we shopped.

"Jacob, you stand over here," I said, pointing to the first station on the far side of the counter near the plates with the sliced potatoes and fish pieces. "Dip the fries in the batter and then put them on the plate," I said, pointing to the plate in front of him. "Victoria, you hold the plate and then pass the fries to me and I'll fry them. When we get to the fish, Jacob will dip them in batter and then you can push them into the breading. Give them to me then. Okay?" I asked, positioning Victoria strategically in the middle, wedged between Jacob and me.

I turned on the pan filled with oil so that it could heat up, and lined two cookie sheets with paper towels to absorb the excess grease as Esme had instructed, and placed them on the counter on the other side of the stove. Jacob and Victoria watched with interest and I felt a burst of confidence. _I was doing this. It was going to work._

"Okay, let's go," I said and Jacob jumped to action, almost excitedly. He carefully dipped a single piece of potato in the batter and gingerly sat it on the plate. Victoria rotated the plate toward me and I reached out and grabbed the potato with my tongs, dropping it in the sizzling oil.

"That's good Jacob, but you don't have to be that careful. You can do more than one fry at a time and you can get your fingers a little dirty," I teased.

He took my words to heart, his long fingers wrapping around a handful of fries and sloppily dousing them in the batter, his hand covered in the gooey liquid. He held the mass over the bowl of batter while it dripped and then all at once, slapped them down onto the plate in Victoria's hands, and as a result, splattered her in the face.

I gasped and so did Jacob, neither one of us knowing how Victoria was going to react. We were all frozen, the only sound the sizzling of the now very dark brown fry in the skillet.

We both stared at Victoria until her mouth curled into a mischievous smile and she giggled. Before I knew what was happening she'd dipped a fry into the batter and flicked it at Jacob, batter flying in one big gob at his shirt. He looked down at the mess, truly shocked at her behavior.

"Oh no, you didn't!" he said, dipping his finger into the batter and wiping it right down the bridge of Victoria's pert nose.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, her face turning bright red with emotion. "You don't know who you're messing with, Jacob Black!" she warned playfully. Jacob had a huge smile on his face as if he couldn't wait to see what she would do next. She eyed her choices on the counter, raising her eyebrows when an idea struck her. We watched as she grabbed a handful of the bread crumb mixture and smirked as she sprinkled it over his hair.

"Hey," Jacob said, grabbing her by the wrist to stop her. His hand looked huge wrapped around her slender arm. "That's not fair! There's no way I can sprinkle these yucky crumbs in your beautiful hair," he declared, looking her dead in the eye.

"Well, you have beautiful hair too, and I did it to you!" she said, returning his intense gaze.

All of a sudden I felt like an intruder; the sexual tension in the room became stifling. I took a step backwards automatically, and crashed right into Charlie's chest.

"What's going on in here?" he said, looking back and forth between Jacob and Victoria, who both had batter all over them. Jacob quickly released Victoria's wrist and turned away from Charlie, his eyes fixed on the bowl of batter. Victoria's face was red all over again, her eyelids fluttering nervously.

"Um nothing Char…Dad," I replied, immediately turning to the skillet, pulling the charred fry out of the oil with my tongs and placing it on the paper towels. "We're just making the fries," I explained.

"Okay, well I just came to tell you that it smells like something's burning," he explained, eyeing the black fry.

"We're just testing the oil," I blurted and Jacob burst out laughing, Victoria giggling behind her hand.

"Humph," Charlie grumbled, grabbing a couple of beers from the refrigerator before escaping the madness going on in the kitchen.

Jacob and Victoria continued to laugh, getting more and more hysterical, and I couldn't help but join them. Victoria still had batter all over her face, and bread crumbs kept falling out of Jacob's hair. They leaned into each other as they laughed until Victoria was holding her body up by pushing against Jacob's chest. I didn't know whether it was conscious or unconscious on her part, but the effect was the same. When our laughter finally died down, Jacob grabbed Victoria's hands in his for a moment to help her regain her composure. Their hands seemed to linger in one another's for a beat too long to be simply friendly. I even saw a questioning glance pass between them.

Somehow we eventually managed to finish cooking the fries and the fish. A bit more of the batter got flung back and forth and a few sprinklings of breadcrumbs were launched here and there, maintaining the playfulness instigated earlier. I had Jacob and Victoria set the table together so that I could finish the salad and get drinks together. I was happy to notice that their new easy familiarity with each other remained as they bumped hips and messed up each other's place settings.

Charlie and Billy raved about the dinner, claiming the fish was as good as they did it down at the reservation. Both men seemed equally surprised that Jacob had contributed to the dinner. Everyone was pleased, including Victoria who kept trading glances with Jacob throughout dinner.

Billy and Charlie hustled back to the couch as soon as we were done eating so that they could finish watching the game. It didn't escape my notice that Jacob seemed entirely uninterested in watching the game with them tonight, spending his time in the kitchen with two girls instead.

While Jacob and Victoria cleaned the table of the dirty dishes, I got the pound cake out and cut in into five pieces, placing them on dessert plates that I had found in my inventory of the kitchen. I imagined that Renee had bought the little flowered plates at one time or maybe they had even been a wedding gift.

I got out the half-finished bowl of sliced strawberries, deciding on the spot that there were enough in the bowl to make our dessert. I scooped a heaping spoonful of strawberries and placed them on each slice of cake, allowing some to tumble off the cake onto the plate.

"We're done with the table," Victoria announced, carrying a pile of dirty dishes in her hand. "What's next?" she asked. I looked over at her, marveling again at the difference in her. There was no harshness in her expression, no sarcastic comment hanging on the tip of her tongue. Her face was relaxed, happy…soft.

Jacob followed soon after, barreling into the kitchen like a puppy dog looking for scraps. He immediately honed in on the desserts, swiping a stray strawberry for himself. Victoria slapped his hand, giggling. "Hey, Bella worked hard on those," she chided in the same playful tone that she'd been using all day.

"Here, you can do the whipped cream," I said, thrusting the can into Jacob's hand. "I'll go check on the guys." I grabbed two cans of beer out of the fridge and made my way to the living room where the television was blaring. It was a commercial for some kind of men's after shower spray, and the model - who was standing in the shower, one hand against the wall while he misted himself on various parts of his body - looked uncannily like Edward. I couldn't keep my eyes from the screen, the cold cans in my hand forgotten for the moment.

"Are those for us, Bella?" Billy asked, and I tore my eyes from the television.

"Oh yeah, sorry," I replied, handing them both a can.

"Dessert's ready," Jacob declared with a jovial tone, walking into the room with a plate of strawberry shortcake in each hand for Charlie and Billy. Victoria followed behind him with two more. She handed one to me and I sat down in a small chair in the corner, leaving only the couch for Jacob and Victoria.

Jacob returned with his dessert and dropped down onto the couch. I watched him watch Victoria as she lowered herself down next to him. She caught his eye and then immediately blushed. Just as she looked down toward the plate on her lap, I noticed a clump of whipped cream in her hair. As I looked more closely I saw some in her ear and even a bit on her neck, slipping down into the collar of her borrowed shirt. Jacob too had small bits of whipped cream in his hair, on his shirt, even up by his eyebrow.

Jacob took a huge bite of his dessert, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He looked over at Victoria, noticing the whipped cream in her ear, and without thinking, carefully wiped it out with his napkin. I quickly averted my eyes, feeling the heat rise to my face.

My feelings were so conflicted. I knew I should be happy. I wanted them to be together. But Jacob's gesture was so sweet, so intimate, that I felt instantly like an outsider. I was reminded of Alice and Jasper and how their love for each other made me feel acutely alone. I knew what I wanted; I knew what was missing in my life, but I couldn't have it. Why couldn't my life be as easy to fix as others? Why did I have to love someone I couldn't have?

When I arrived at school the following morning Seth was waiting on the steps for me.

"Hey Seth," I said, as I scaled the stairs toward him.

"Bella, hey, I'm glad I caught you. Look, you know how immature kids can be in high school…you know, complete jack asses with no sense of decency, no real sense of themselves, just total dipshits, right?"

"Sure…Seth…um, why can I never understand what you're trying to say?"

"Okay, I can see you're an impatient woman. I'll cut to the chase. I'm kind of scrawny and I have a way of hiding in corners, slinking around underneath bleachers, and generally, in overhearing things that may of be of interest around the social world that is Forks High," he explained.

"Yeah…so?"

"I overheard Mike Newton telling Eric Yorkie this morning that he saw you at a party last weekend."

"And?" I asked, losing my patience. The bell was going to ring any moment and I still needed to get a book from my locker.

"Well, he said some very complimentary things about parts of your anatomy in a very graphic way."

"Okay. Okay. Please Seth, get to the point."

"Alright. He said something about paying some guys to drug you at the party so that he could have his way with you, but that his plans went afoul.

"He said 'afoul'?"

"Well, maybe those weren't his exact words. I do tend to embellish, to elaborate, to beautify," he rambled.

"Seth, you're like a walking thesaurus."

"That's what they say," he retorted happily.

I started to walk away, mulling the information he'd given me around in my brain.

"Wait, Bella. One more thing," he said, reaching out to stop me. "He told Eric Yorkie that he wasn't giving up on you. I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I thought you should know."

I walked off to class, wondering on how my life had gotten so complicated. Knowing that Mike Newton was somehow involved in what had happened to me at Laurent's party didn't surprise me. I was taught early on to hope for the best in people, but to expect the worst. So many people I'd met since I'd come to Forks had been so open and kind to me that I'd been forced to reconsider this cynical view of life: Alice, Jacob, Rosalie, Esme, Emmett, Carlisle, and even Victoria, and Edward…_oh Edward_, and Charlie.

And yet, even when things seem like they're going great, life has a way of cutting you down, of reminding you that darkness is always lurking.

It will consume you if you let it.

**End Notes:**

**I hope you all can find some time in your post-Eclipse high to write me a little review! **

**Did that play out the way that you thought? What did you think about the dinner?**

**We're getting closer to the part of the story where we'll jump forward into the future, but not before a few very pivotal things happen to Bella. Stick with me; it should be interesting and a bit angsty.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I really love hearing your comments!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:**

**I'm so incredibly amazed at the recent response to this story. I'm so thankful to all my new readers as well as you guys who have been with me from the beginning! I love all your comments and thoughts on this story. Some of you are so perceptive – making brilliant and intuitive connections and predictions. I love them all – please keep them coming!**

**I always must thank ms. ambrosia for tightening up my loose prose and for being there for me when I need her.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't. But I love manipulating her characters. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her confused and conflicted doc.**

Family Legacy

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched as I walked down the halls. I had this weird sensation - like all the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end – all day long. I tried to pretend that Seth's warning didn't bother me, but I couldn't fool myself. I was a nervous wreck.

To make matters even worse, Alice was absent from school. I spent several stressed-out minutes in the girl's bathroom during third period trying to remember how to send a text message to her on my phone. It wasn't really as hard as I thought it was, and when she replied almost immediately, I was happy that I'd made the effort.

She wasn't sick, but just thoroughly depressed and missing Jasper. After a few of my garbled texts, typed out agonizingly slowly on my phone, she'd lost her patience and called me. She told me that Jasper drove his motorcycle 25 miles to the nearest town last night to find cell reception so that he could call her. They'd talked until two in the morning, until Alice actually fell asleep with her phone in her hand.

Her mom walked in while we were talking – I could hear her soft voice in the background – and rather than being mad and irritated that her daughter was skipping school, offered to take Alice to Port Angeles to go shopping and out to lunch to cheer her up. Alice's voice perked up instantly and there was a loud rustling as she roused herself to get ready to go. We hung up and I rushed back to class, my ass cold and stiff from crouching in the toilet stall for so long.

In the hallway after class, I tried not to acknowledge the frustration and the twinge of anger I was feeling toward Alice for so easily abandoning me at school. And I couldn't ignore my nagging irritation that, instead of keeping me company in the cafeteria at lunchtime, she was spending time with her amazing and generous mother, eating in a restaurant somewhere where the food was actually edible. I wanted to be happy for her that she was so fortunate, that she had such an understanding mother, who loved to spend time with her. And I was. But a part of me lamented that I would never have a day like this with my mother – ever. A small voice inside my head wondered why I was so unlucky.

As I made my way to class I was imagining Alice and Esme in a seaside restaurant with white tablecloths and real flowers in a vase on the table, clinking their fancy water goblets in a toast, their tinkling laughter carried away on a soft gust of wind. I was so consumed with this vision that I was oblivious to my surroundings. I was totally unaware that I was about to encounter the one person who I'd been dreading to see since Seth spoke to me this morning.

I finally spotted Mike Newton making his way in my direction, encircled by a group of loud boys, who were so unruly that they disrupted the natural flow of foot traffic. The students in their way parted almost ceremonially to allow them passage, hastening like serfs to step out of the path of the king.

Like the others, I hugged the wall of lockers, looking down, and put one foot in front of the other, hoping I'd go unnoticed. But it was too late to hide; I knew that he saw me. I could feel his eyes on me without even looking, like an unwanted caress, possessive and greedy.

I lifted my gaze to sneak a peek down the hall – to find an escape route – when I realized he was already in front of me. His tall form was flanked on each side with two nameless, beefy jocks, effectively blocking my way. When Mike began to talk they took a few steps away, I assumed to afford Mike some privacy.

My heart thundered in my chest, heat flooding my cheeks. While I concentrated on steadying my trembling hands, gulping in deep drafts of air, Mike was enjoying my discomfort, his lips stretched in a leering smile, his ice blue eyes sparkling with mirth. His confidence reduced me to a blithering mess, and I couldn't meet his gaze, dumbfounded by his arrogant stance. I hated myself in this moment, my weakness, my incapacitating fear.

"Hey Bella," he said in a low, suggestive tone. "I'm glad I caught you." I couldn't avoid looking up into his eyes, shrinking under his intrusive stare, and the way in which his words seemed to so literally describe the way he'd cornered me. I had been caught in a sticky web too many times before; I was familiar with manipulation in all its manifestations. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to avoid this exact kind of situation, I somehow drew drama and danger to myself. Maybe I deserved it.

But even if I did, I was so tired of giving in, of cowering. I briefly thought of Alice and how she had the confidence not to care what anyone thought of her. And Victoria too - even when she was suffering inside - never allowed her troubles to crush her. She always showed such a brave face, and didn't seem to be intimidated by the world like I was.

"So…I was wondering if I could get your number and I could…you know, call you sometime," Mike asked, though it wasn't really a question. I had the impression that he was simply waiting for me to hand over my phone so he could plug in his number, assuming that I was happy to have his attention. I stared at him blankly, panicking inside, knowing that I had to give him some kind of response.

"Um, I don't know," I stammered, wishing that I was strong enough to tell him no, to go away, to leave me alone.

"What do you mean you don't know? Come on, Bella, I own this school. No one ever says no to me," he said incredulously. His stare became more intense.

"Well…" I hedged, losing what little nerve I'd rallied.

"I just want your number, it's no big deal," Mike said, stepping closer. I stood my ground, but began to tremble as his hand reached for me. I flinched, but he didn't appear fazed by my negative reaction to him. He moved even closer, until I could smell the sweat on his skin mingled with the distinct powdery scent of his soap. He ran the back of his hand along my exposed collarbone, his knuckles brushing against my skin.

I was paralyzed with fear and repulsion, my back pressed painfully against the locker behind me. He seemed to take my silence as a sign that I was enjoying his hands on me. He whispered in my ear, his hot breath on my neck, "We could meet after school, if you want."

"I don't think so," I said ineffectively, flustered by his sheer physical presence so close to me.

I was praying for the bell to ring, for something to provide a distraction so that I could slip away. I could see that the halls were emptying and I knew that I was going to be late to class. "I've got to get to class," I pleaded in the small, weak voice that I thought I'd buried for good.

"Ditch with me," Mike said and tugged on my arm. I was so distressed by his suggestion and startled by his rough touch that I dropped the books that I had cradled in my arms.

"Ow!" Mike yelled when my books landed hard on his foot. I apologized and scrambled to collect them from the ground when I heard my name being called.

"Bella! There you are," Victoria said as I stood back up. She lightly tugged on my arm, extricating me from the tight corner I had been trapped in. "I've been looking for you," she said, glaring venomously at Mike before wrapping her fingers tightly around my bicep and marching me down the hallway with her.

"You shouldn't talk to Mike Newton, Bella," she warned, her voice low and grave.

"I wasn't. I mean, I didn't want to," I explained, my heart finally starting to slow.

"Well, don't let him trap you like that. He is seriously bad news." She stopped walking when the bell rang. "Shit! Late to class again," she said, not truly seeming too upset by her tardiness. "Hey, let's ditch," she said, raising her eyebrows and tugging my arm with more urgency as she shuffled faster down the hallway.

"Okay," I agreed, allowing her to pull me along with her. We stopped by Victoria's locker at the end of the hall and she took the books out of my hand and shoved them into her locker, grabbing her purse in the process. I followed her out the side doorway and around the side of the building. She led me to a small, empty courtyard at the back of the school that housed several large garden beds, entirely overgrown with a mixture of wildflowers and weeds.

Victoria plopped down on the edge of one of the garden beds which served as a kind of makeshift bench, the perfect place for restless students to spend time when skipping class. I sat down next to her and could see that from where we were perched we had a perfect view of the teacher's parking lot and the football field in the distance. The track team was running laps, snippets of the coach's voice carrying across the wind.

"Seeing you talk to Mike Newton really weirded me out. I know he's gorgeous and everything, but you don't like him, do you?" she asked as she pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

"No!" I answered without hesitation.

"Good. He thinks he's god's gift to women. He gets away with so much because of the way he looks. He's left a trail of girls behind him. He doesn't care who he hurts," she explained while digging in her purse. She finally pulled her hand out triumphantly, her lighter pinched between two fingers.

She put a cigarette between her lips and lit it with the lighter. She took a deep drag on the cigarette and exhaled a huge billow of smoke around us.

We sat silently for several minutes while Victoria took long drags from her cigarette. I realized that I trusted Victoria; she had saved me more than once from a bad situation and I wanted to confide in her.

"Do you know Seth?" I asked her.

"You mean the nerdy, Indian kid? The one with the briefcase?"

"Um yeah, he's actually really nice." I grimaced at her description of him, though it was admittedly accurate.

"Yeah, so?" she prodded, flicking her ash into the planter box.

"He told me this morning that he overheard Mike talking to someone named…uh, Eric something…and he told him that he paid those guys to drug me at the party. Did you even see him there?"

"Yeah, I saw him," she said plainly.

"How come you don't seem surprised?" I asked.

"Cause I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because Mike's a jerk, that's why. He does whatever he wants and always gets away with it. His older brother was just the same way. His brother was at the party too – Demetri – he's probably the one who laced those cookies. You know, Bella, you should never eat something like that at a party," she admonished.

"Well I know that now, thanks," I said dryly and she laughed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh, but you are pretty innocent, you know? I mean with those big doe eyes and everything…it's no wonder that all the guys at this school are going ape shit over you. I swear I've even seen Dr. Cullen look at you like he's in love with you or something."

"What? Huh? You…you're crazy," I blathered, stumbling over my words, my pulse accelerating.

"Yeah whatever," she dismissed the thought easily.

"Look, just be really careful. Mike is pretty good at this game. I should know," she said as she dropped her cigarette butt on the ground and smashed it under her tennis shoe.

"What do you mean?"

"Wanna cigarette?" she asked as she pulled another one out of the pack. She held it up for me in offering. "Come on, take one, smoke it, and I'll tell you. Deal?"

"Um, I've never…"

"I'll walk you through it," she said, handing me one.

I placed it between my lips while she flicked the lighter to life at the end. "Suck," she ordered. I inhaled, just to get her to move the hot flame away from my face, and felt the burn deep in my throat. I didn't cough, but I gagged a little and forced the smoke out of my lungs in a few jagged puffs. My throat felt instantly raw and I wondered why people enjoyed this. I must have screwed my face up humorously, because Victoria laughed, nudging me in the shoulder.

"Try again, this time slower…just a little drag. Don't inhale too deeply…okay, now blow it out," she instructed, walking me through the steps. When I exhaled this time, my head felt extraordinarily light and it actually bobbed forward and backward on my neck. I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensation, and almost giving in to the feeling of losing consciousness.

"Wow," I exclaimed when I finally opened my eyes, staring down at the burning stick between my fingers. I tried to sit casually like Victoria, but I felt awkward with the cigarette in my hand.

"Cool, huh?"

I nodded and took another small tug on the cigarette with my lips. I wasn't going to tell Victoria that I never planned on smoking ever again because I wanted to share this moment with her. We seemed like we were always walking a really fine line with each other and at any time either one of us could somehow step over it accidentally. The line was stretched pretty taut as it was, each of us pushing and pulling at one another's demons, forcing both of us to face the most vulnerable parts of ourselves.

I had taken three drags off of my cigarette when Victoria began to talk again. "Lauren had a crazy party at the end of last year. Everyone went, everyone got really drunk. Mike was there and he looked so hot. He was wearing these black jeans and a tight white t-shirt and he just looked…hot. He could have had any girl that was there. But I decided that it was my time. I kind of threw myself at him. He didn't have to drug me," she said, swinging her red hair over her shoulder.

"I spent most of the party flirting with him and I had convinced myself that we were really getting along and that he liked me. At one point, Mike grabbed my hand and dragged me off to Lauren's room, locking the door behind him. I was really drunk, but not so drunk I didn't know what he wanted. It's not like I didn't want it too," she said, scowling and shoving her cigarette into the dirt.

I mimicked her, stabbing out my cigarette, scooping up the butts and throwing them into the nearby trashcan. Her head was down when I sat back down, her hair like a red curtain, obscuring her face. She flipped her head back dramatically, her curls bouncing on her shoulders.

"Did you have sex with him?" I asked.

"I guess you could call it that. I tried to be all seductive and everything, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and running my hands along his chest, but he stopped me. I thought for a second that he was rejecting me, that I wasn't good enough for him, but it turns out that I just wasn't going fast enough for him. I'd only had sex one time before and, I mean, it wasn't great, but at least the guy seemed interested in me, you know?

"With Mike, it was like he didn't care at all. He pushed my hands away from him and almost ripped my shirt off. He dragged my underwear down my legs and shoved me down onto the bed. He didn't even bother to get undressed. He just pulled his pants down and rammed himself into me, not even waiting to see if I was ready. I was freaked out and started to cry. He told me to shut the fuck up, that I was ruining it for him.

"He finished up and pulled up his pants and then he walked away, leaving me in the room alone. He's a monster," she said, a tear escaping and sliding down her face. She wiped it quickly away.

"Want another?" she asked, lighting up another cigarette. I shook my head no.

"That's just…horrible," I said. "I'm so sorry. It should never be that way. That…that…" I didn't know what to say to her; I didn't have any words to make it better, to take it all away. Victoria's story reminded me of Rosalie. I couldn't help relating the two girls' experiences in my mind, both of them horrifying and wrong – _so wrong. _

"I know," she replied. "That's why we have to report him," she said bluntly.

"No! I just can't tell anyone yet. Please!" I begged. Victoria's eyes opened wide and she looked at me as if she was seeing me clearly for the first time.

"Why not? I thought you'd be happy to get rid of him. You don't like him, do you?" she asked again, clearly horrified at the thought.

"No, of course not," I reassured her. "But I just can't tell my dad yet. We don't even know each other that well. What if he doesn't believe me or thinks that I…you know…did the drugs on purpose or something," I spat, growing more and more anxious.

"Why would he think that?"

"My mom was a heroin addict! She killed herself, okay? I was around that all the time. The needles…the tracks in her arms…the the the…"

"Bella! Calm down. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said as she moved closer, wrapping her arm around my shoulder tentatively. "I won't tell anyone yet, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, feeling myself beginning to calm a little.

We sat in this position for a short while, her arm cradling me next to her. It should have felt strange to feel so close to this girl, to feel so comfortable in her arms, but it didn't. Neither one of us felt compelled to move apart; it felt like one of us might break into pieces if we shifted from our position.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Victoria's arm slid slowly down my arm.

"Are you okay to go to class?" she whispered.

"Uh huh," I answered, nodding. We slipped through the door back into the hallway and I followed her to her locker to retrieve my books. I put them in my arms and made to walk away.

"I'll see you later, Bella," she said. Before I turned to walk away I saw something in her expression that confused me. It looked like remorse.

There was absolutely no way I could brave the cafeteria at lunch time without Alice. I decided to forgo eating and headed to the library, hoping to hole myself up in a quiet spot and get a head start on my homework. When I walked in and saw Seth sitting at a table by himself in the corner, I somehow wasn't surprised to find him there.

I approached his table and he looked up from his book, smiling. "Did you know that Leonard da Vinci's painting _The Last Supper_ began to deteriorate only a couple years after it was completed? Da Vinci liked to experiment with different painting techniques, but not all of them were successful. Really it's amazing that it's survived at all," he said enthusiastically. "They've tried to restore it many times, but it wasn't until they used infrared reflectoscopy and microscopic core-sampling that they were able to do a decent job," he explained as if I understood what he was talking about.

"I didn't know that," I said as I sat down at the table across from him.

"I've never seen you in here at lunch time before. Welcome," he said, gesturing as if he owned the place.

"Do you eat in here often?"

"Yeah, pretty much every day. I find I don't have enough time to read all the things I want to. There just isn't enough time in the day. I only sleep about three hours a night as it is," he said. "Plus, we're studying Leonardo da Vinci in art class and I wanted to learn everything I could about him. Not that it will help me be a better artist. I'm horrible, inadequate, pathetic, inept, hopeless, incompetent, clumsy…"

"Okay, Seth, I get the idea. So, you're not an artist. You can't be good at everything."

"Why not?" he asked seriously.

"You just can't," I replied.

"Well, I want to be. But no matter how much I learn about art, and how often I practice, I never get better. I'm a hopeless case. My GPA is going to suffer. I can't risk it. I'm going to need to read even more, practice more often, do something, anything, to get better," he said dramatically, banging his head on the table.

"Have you thought about getting a tutor or something? Alice is an amazing artist, maybe she could help you?"

"Alice Cullen? She _is_ amazing," he said breathlessly, as if in awe of her talent. "Do you think she would help me?"

"I don't know. You should ask her. She's really nice," I said.

"Are you sure about that? I've always kind of thought she was a little frightening, intimidating, unapproachable, threatening…"

"Seth!" I interrupted. "She may seem like that, but she's not. I swear. She's really wonderful, and her mom is an amazing artist too," I said, thinking of Esme warmly.

"Well okay. I'll think about it, ponder, deliberate, muse…"

"You never just finish a statement simply, do you? Wait, don't answer that," I said, holding up my hand. I opened my history book with the other and began to read the chapter that was assigned for homework. "Remember, there's not enough time in the day for all the reading you want to do. Let's read," I suggested, not raising my eyes from the page.

"Whatever you say Bella," Seth replied sarcastically, but when I raised my eyes to check on him a few minutes later he was back to being thoroughly engrossed in his book on da Vinci.

When school was over I couldn't decide whether it would be safer to run out to my truck quickly or to wait in the girl's bathroom until it was likely Mike Newton had already headed home. I opted for the second plan, cozying up in the end stall for nearly fifteen minutes after the last bell rang.

It wasn't until I was already at the very edge of the parking lot that I noticed there were still a few cars in the lot. I could only hope that one of them didn't belong to Mike. I started across the lot on the way to my truck when I heard footsteps behind me. It felt strongly like déjà vu; the sensation was so similar to the day before that I felt like I already knew who was stalking up behind me.

When I swiveled around and found myself staring into ice-cold blue eyes, I shouldn't have been startled, but I was. My stomach tensed uncomfortably and I braced myself as if for an attack.

"Hi," he said simply, stepping too close. I backed a step away.

"Um, I've gotta go," I said, hustling as quickly as I could to my car.

"Wait," he said, grabbing my forearm. I tugged on it and he tightened his grip. It was almost painful. I felt my adrenaline spike and wrenched my arm free.

"Don't touch me," I seethed, and fumbled for my keys. With shaking hands, I slipped the key into the lock and pulled open the door.

"Hey, don't freak out. I really like you. Give me your number," he demanded, his tone flip-flopping from sympathetic to severe all in one breath.

"I need to go," I repeated, hoisting myself up into the cab of my truck. He placed his body in the path of the door so I couldn't close it.

"Don't fight this. We'd be great together," he said, his face twisted in a forced smile that looked uncomfortable on his face.

I wrapped my fingers tightly around the steering wheel as if holding on was a matter of life and death. _Go away, _I thought, willing him to obey my unspoken command. I reached down and turned the key in the ignition, firing up the car. I put the car in gear, but keeping my foot firmly on the brake.

"Don't be stupid," Mike growled at me and I let my foot slip, the door knocking into his side. "Bitch!" he yelled as he stumbled backward, rubbing his arm. I stretched my arm out to grab the door, slamming it shut quickly and recklessly tapped the gas pedal, jolting the truck in reverse. I crashed my foot onto the brake, the tires squealing as I slipped back into gear and sped out of the parking lot as fast as my truck would go. I hazarded a glance in the rearview mirror and saw Mike still standing in the parking lot, watching.

My disturbing altercation with Mike made me late getting to therapy. When I walked in everyone's eyes landed on me. Edward and Victoria were standing in the corner talking. When they saw me they instantly stopped. There was something guilty in their both of their expressions. Victoria almost looked frightened and I wondered what topic of conversation could make her look that way. She dropped her eyes quickly, deliberately not meeting my gaze and I felt immediately suspicious.

Edward, on the other hand, was openly staring; his eyes reaching down into my very soul, to the small smoldering ember of hope and desire I'd set aside just for him. His look rushed me, ignited me, striking a flame and setting me on fire. I was burning from the inside out, an inferno raging deep in my heart, blazing through my limbs. How I made it to my seat, I would never know. But the hard wood pressed into my legs, grounding me, reminding me of where I was, who was watching.

I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from Edward even though I knew I should. He sauntered forward toward me like a predator, stalking me, coveting me. He stopped when he stood in front of me, surprising me by squatting down, his face level with mine. His brow was furrowed, his expression fierce. _Was he angry with me?_

"Bella, are you okay?" he asked, his fingers darting out to rest on the tip of my knee. His touch sent a current of tingles shooting up my thigh, but I was confused by his question and I couldn't concentrate on the sensation. What had changed? What prompted this kind of overt attention from him? _Should I be worried?_ I was worried.

He raised his arm, pushing his hand through his hair. He was anxious. He was waiting for me to answer.

"I…I'm okay," I whispered, only able to match his gaze for an instant before his piercing stare became too much to handle. He nodded, licking his lips, a small smirk appearing, brightening his face. I stifled a gasp as he stood abruptly, jarring me awake. I shot a questioning glance at Victoria whose red, contrite face was already pointed at me, her hands fumbling nervously in her lap.

"Let's start," Edward announced to the group and everyone's gaze snapped back to him as he walked back across the room, sinking into his own chair.

"I wanted to talk about trust today. Bella, let's start with you," Edward said, something mischievous in his expression. He paused, dropping his gaze. When he raised his eyes again his look was almost seductive and my breath caught in my throat. _Why does he torture me like this? _I wanted to jump from my seat and throw myself into his lap, but his next words slammed into me hard, twisting my fantasy upon itself.

He inhaled deeply, his face all at once grave. "Do you trust me, Bella?"

**End Notes:**

**Please review! How else will I know what you think of Victoria's tale? Or of Mike? Or Seth? Or what you think Edward is up to? **


	21. Chapter 21

A/N:

**Warning: there is a very important and super long (sorry) message at the end of the story. Please Read!**

For those of you who are anxious for the story to move along, this is one of the last few chapters in this time of Bella's life. The second half of the story will take place several years in the future where circumstances for both Bella and Edward will be dramatically different.

Thank you so much to all of you who review! You don't know how wonderful it is to hear how much you like the story! It makes me want to write all the time! Who am I kidding? I want to write all the time anyway.

My other story, The Innocent Heart of Darkness is winding down towards its inevitable end. If you haven't already checked it out, will you give it a looksie?

Thank you so much to ms. ambrosia! She's the comma queen! Every time I think I've perfected my grammar, she's sure to find more mistakes. She's thorough and merciless in her corrections! And still, I adore her!

Disclaimer: SM owns. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.

Tragic Flaw

The roar of Charlie's police cruiser as he left for work on Thursday morning startled me awake from one of the most restless nights of sleep I'd ever suffered through. I just couldn't turn my mind off. I seemed to be collecting new worries every day.

Though I'd spent most of the evening avoiding thinking of it, the second my head hit the pillow, I began to fret over my altercation with Mike in the parking lot. I tossed and turned, coming up with several different though equally lame strategies on how to prevent running into him at school. These included hiding in the bathroom, eating lunch in my truck and even wearing a disguise.

I knew he was going to be extremely mad at me for driving off the way I did. Each time I closed my eyes, my mind would go back to him, imagining how he might react when he saw me, dreading how he might retaliate.

More and more I was beginning to realize that telling Charlie about the whole thing, both what happened at Laurent's party and what Seth had told me about Mike, was a good idea. This wasn't the first time in my life where I'd felt frightened or threatened by someone, but it was the first time when I actually had someone to tell, someone that might help.

I thought that Edward could be that person too – someone who was on my side, who would protect me. But for the first time, at the therapy session, I felt unsure. His words seemed to have a double meaning that was beyond my grasp. As I often felt with him, it was like he was trying to tell me something, a riddle that I needed to figure out on my own. And yet, this time I almost recoiled from solving it, knowing instinctively that I might not want to know what the answer was.

I had to admit that Edward frustrated me more than ever – putting me on the spot with all his vague questions. The second he turned his sultry gaze on me I was already a mess. When he'd asked me if I trusted him my mouth just dropped open in response. How was I to know what he meant? Was he testing me?

I wanted to trust him. But I wasn't sure if I was capable of it yet.

He was so open, his look so inviting. "Do you trust me, Bella?" he'd asked. And when I didn't answer, his eyebrows shot up, his forehead wrinkling.

"Um…I…" I stuttered, willing my lips to comply.

"It's okay," he said frowning, a hint of dejection in his tone.

He tore his eyes from mine, shifting toward Victoria. "How about you, Victoria? Do you feel like you can trust the group? Do you trust us…trust the process?" I was acutely aware that he changed the meaning of his question for her, depersonalizing it. I felt my stomach clench at this realization, wondering if anyone else noticed.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen, I trust the group. I mean, I wouldn't tell half the stuff I talk about in here to my friends even. They like, only know one side of me," she answered honestly.

"I'm glad you feel safe here, Victoria. I want you to feel safe," he explained. His eyes scanned everyone's faces, landing finally on mine. "I want everyone to feel safe here," he said meaningfully, looking into my eyes for a beat too long. As always, I was the one to pull my gaze away first.

"Trust is so important in all relationships, whether it's between you and your friends or your parents, or between you and your significant other."

"What's that mean?" James blurted.

"It means, James, that in order for you to have a strong and healthy relationship with anyone, like your dad, or even a girlfriend, you have to trust them. And you must be trustworthy yourself. Trust is the foundation of any strong relationship." James scoffed, as if the idea of trusting someone else was ridiculous.

"Do you have a problem with this idea?" Edward asked.

"Um, yeah," James answered as he wriggled around restlessly in his seat, sarcasm lacing his bitter words. "My dad's the last person in the world I would trust with anything. The only thing I can trust is that he'll be drunk every night and that he'll yell at me before he passes out on the couch."

"Yeah, I wouldn't trust my dad either. He'd rat me out to the cops to save his own skin," Laurent mumbled, pulling the drawstrings on his hoodie.

"What do you mean, Laurent?"

"When the cops came to our house the first time, my dad told them that the stash of pot they found was mine even though it was his," he said quietly, as if ashamed.

"What did you tell the police?" Edward asked Laurent whose expression was clearly conflicted. He looked like he was struggling to decide if he wanted to share this information or if he should keep it to himself.

"Um, is my dad gonna get in trouble if I tell you anything?" Laurent asked uncomfortably.

Edward's gaze again shifted to me before his eyes returned to Laurent as he answered. "It's my understanding that your father already faced jail time for possession. Is that right?" Laurent nodded uncertainly. "So he's paid his debt to society already."

"I guess," Laurent agreed.

"I've said this before to some of you, but I'll say it again. Everything we talk about in this room is confidential. It doesn't go beyond these walls – ever. These sessions are pointless if we can't trust each other, is that understood?" he asked and we each nodded in turn. The seriousness of his tone made me feel like a child being chastised.

"All of you are here because your parents have committed a crime and as far as the justice system is concerned, they have been punished for those crimes. However," he said, inhaling deeply, pausing. "If one of you admits to being a part of or knowing of something that is illegal or in any way constitutes criminal behavior, I am legally and ethically obligated to report it to the authorities." His eyes flit in my direction for an instant before he turned back to Laurent.

"Do you understand my meaning?" he asked him. "This is an open forum here, but you need to be clear that I have certain responsibilities." Laurent nodded, but we were all a taken aback, silenced by the impact of his words.

The timbre of the discussion changed a bit from that point on, Edward's warning dampening the mood and stifling our confessions. Laurent never related what had happened with his father, but I think we all knew what he'd done. His father blamed him to avoid prison and Laurent did the time in juvenile hall, never revealing the truth. Clearly, Laurent's sacrifice wasn't worth it; his father eventually ended up getting caught selling drugs anyway.

Regardless of how unrealistic it seemed, Edward tried to impress upon us that we needed to figure out how to develop a sense of trust for our parents. He maintained that there had to be at least a few things that we could depend on our parents for – food, shelter, and our basic needs. He claimed that we could start from there and then work on developing a deeper sense of trust. I really didn't understand how we were supposed to develop trust for people who were inherently untrustworthy, but Edward was so insistent, so sure that we could, that I believed him.

About fifteen minutes before the end of the session Edward had us pull out a piece of paper to write a list of things that we trusted our parents to do for us, as well as a list of the things we didn't. As I started to write my list, I realized how much I actually did already trust Charlie. My list was so much longer than it would have been for my mother. She had betrayed my trust in so many ways that it hurt to think about how little she'd ever considered my needs.

But when I thought of Charlie, my feelings were entirely different, even hopeful. Only a few minutes had passed and I had already written:

I _trust Charlie to provide shelter_

_I trust Charlie to feed me_

_I trust Charlie to care for me when I'm sick_

_I trust Charlie to buy me clothes_

_I trust Charlie to…_

I was thinking of the next item in the list when Edward pulled a chair up, turned it backward and sat down in front of me. I was momentarily distracted by his long legs straddling the chair, his elegant but masculine fingers wrapped around the top. He peered at my list, smiling. He pointed to the unfinished line, suggesting, "How about, 'I trust Charlie to protect me from harm'?"

"Okay," I agreed, scribbling the phrase down hastily, suspicious of the meaning behind his words. I glanced up from my paper to question him, but predictably, his look of intensity rendered me speechless. Before I could compose myself, he patted me on the hand like you'd pat a dog on the head. This benign gesture confused me even more than I was already.

I opened my mouth to confront him, but just as quickly lost the opportunity when the loud sound of a chair crashing to the floor abruptly drew our attention away from one another. Edward immediately and swiftly stood, making his way over to James who'd apparently been struggling to come up with items for his list, squirming so wildly in his seat that his chair fell sideways onto the concrete floor.

I finished my list alone, surprised both by how many ways I trusted Charlie and in how easy it was to come up with ways that I didn't yet trust him. It wasn't difficult to see that I had issues with trust when it was written down like this. It all seemed so obvious – so cut and dry, so black and white.

But it made me feel good to have a list to work from, like a roadmap to a better life. I felt, with time, I might be able to check off the items when they were completed, like a task list. Vacuum the carpets…_check_. Do the laundry..._check_. Trust that Charlie will still care about me when he knows everything…_check_.

As I drove to the school, I was still ticking through this list in my mind, weighing all the positives and negatives against each other, trying to derive some larger meaning out of it all. It kept my mind occupied, preventing me from dwelling on my anxiety at facing Mike again. I had pretty much avoided thinking of him until I pulled into the parking lot where we'd had our tense confrontation the day before. All the worries I'd been hiding from came back to me all at once in a rush of fear.

I panicked, my eyes scanning the lot for a friendly face. I caught sight of a swinging briefcase at the edge of a group of cars and darted out of the truck toward it. I was nearly running to catch up to him, but when I got close, I tried to stealthily sidle next to Seth's slight form as if I'd approached at a normal pace.

"A little anxious, are we? Or perhaps you're rushing for anticipatory reasons? Something exciting happening today? Something extra…ordinary?" Seth asked without turning his head toward me. I sighed heavily in response. "Are you expecting something to happen that is so outside of the realm of the normal, mundane existence of typical high school drudgery that your panties are in a bunch?" he asked, finally turning to face me.

"Ugh, Seth, it's too early for this. I need a Coke and a cup of coffee to keep up with you," I complained, scowling. "Doesn't your mind ever rest?" I focused on the click clack of his patent leather shoes as we neared the entrance to the school.

"Nope, nada, no way, not in this lifetime, that's a negative."

"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hand as if to physically stop the words that continued to spill out of his mouth. I was so absorbed in trying not to listen to Seth that I didn't see Alice approaching until she was right in front of us.

She was wearing a black ribbon dress that looked suspiciously like a very expensive evening gown. On anyone else it would look entirely strange and inappropriate, but paired with a bulky, chartreuse wool scarf and her dangerous looking knee-high combat boots, it was quirky and endearing. Her eyes were heavily lined in black kohl, her face and lips painted almost geisha-like white. The only incongruous part of her costume was the huge smile on her face. Even though I thought she looked fantastic and I was incredibly happy to see her, I felt Seth stiffen next to me, his feet stopping.

"Alice!" I said, bounding forward, drawn to her. "I'm so glad you're back today!"

"I am too," she agreed easily, pulling me to her in a hug. I felt her warmth all through my body.

Seth grunted awkwardly next to me, his eyes darting from side to side as if he was looking for a rock to hide under. He pulled his briefcase up to his chest like a shield, and started fiddling nervously with the handle, his glasses slipping down his nose. He tried unsuccessfully to balance his briefcase with one hand while straightening his glasses, causing it to fall forward, hitting Alice squarely in the chest.

"Ufff," she grunted, pushing it back at him. "What's your problem?" she asked, clearly annoyed, rubbing her chest.

"Oh God, I'm sorry…oh, I can't believe I hit Alice Cullen. Oh Bella, I need to die, kill me now, assassinate me, pulverize me, stomp on me, obliterate me," he rambled nervously, his face blazing hot and red.

"It's okay, Seth," I said, placing my hand on his arm both to calm him and to snap him out of the word vomit.

"Alice, this is Seth. He obviously already knows who you are," I explained, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation. "He needs some art tutoring," I added. "And I didn't know if you'd be interested, but you're the best, well…really the only artist I know."

"Yeah, sure, I'd be happy to Seth," Alice said, thrusting her hand assertively out for Seth to shake. He reached out tentatively, either in fear or awe, and shook her hand.

"Thank you, I'm astounded or maybe I'm thrilled or does ecstatic sum up my feelings best?" Seth asked himself as he sauntered off down the hallway, leaving Alice and me alone.

We both giggled at him, his diatribe continuing even as he got far enough away that we could no longer hear his non-stop verbiage. I couldn't resist scanning the hall for Mike as Seth disappeared around the corner, but Alice, unaware of my purpose, stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

"I have great news," she announced. "Jasper's coming home for the weekend. And you're invited over for dinner on Friday night. Esme even said we could have a sleepover if we want. Do you think your dad will let you?" she asked hopefully.

"Don't you want to be alone with Jasper?" I asked, remembering how they looked when they held each other, when they stared into each other's eyes.

"Well, I do want to spend some time alone with him, but we have all weekend together. And I want to spend some time with you, too. So does Jasper. He likes you, Bella. Everyone in my family likes you!"

"I'll ask Charlie tonight," I promised, feeling a spark of excitement as I headed for my first class of the day. It was nice to have something to look forward to. Just the possibility of seeing Edward again outside of therapy made me anxious and jumpy with anticipation.

I slumped down in my seat, pulling out my notepad and pen, doodling curlicues and stars all over the margins of my paper, while practicing in my head how I was going to ask Charlie for permission to go to the Cullen's house again. The droning voice of my teacher only partially skimmed into my stream of thoughts.

I tended to get particularly frustrated by these kinds of tasks, the kind that should be simple and easy, but for me were not. Even though I was pretty confident that Charlie would be fine with the idea, I had to get over my own mental hurdle of asking him.

My eyes were mindlessly wandering as Mr. Maguire went on and on, my ears finally tuning into his lecture on Hamlet and what he kept referring to as his "tragic flaw." I couldn't help wondering if we all had something like this – a defining imperfection in our basic composition, maybe even in our DNA – that kept us from achieving our potential, from reaching true happiness. It might actually be a relief to know that it wasn't my fault for my general failure at life. Like Hamlet, my problems, my hardships, and my tragedies were simply inherent in my being.

I condensed these thoughts, scribbling them down into a few succinct lines on the top of my paper, thinking maybe they'd morph into some kind of coherent topic for the essay that was due on Monday. I was so absorbed in my writing that I didn't notice that Mr. Maguire had stopped his endless lecture until he said my name and I looked up.

I was instantly flooded with heat, both from embarrassment and from the shock of recognition. Edward stood at the door next to my teacher, his green, intense eyes focused on me. His look was grave and severe, not the tender but smoldering gaze I loved the most. When the initial shock wore off, the doubt settled in. Why was he here? What had I done? Something must be wrong…what could be wrong?

"Bella!" Mr. Maguire repeated and I was startled to my feet. I walked to the front of the room, vaguely aware of the way too interested stares of my classmates, their stifled mumblings bouncing off of me.

"Can I speak with you in the hall?" Edward bent toward me to whisper tersely in my ear and I took in a quick, sharp breath of air. I nodded, following his long stride out the doorway and around the corner. He sighed heavily, his jaw tensing, his left hand running through his hair in an almost frantic gesture.

"Look, Bella, I came hear to warn…tell you that your dad is here to take Mike Newton down to the station for questioning."

"What?" I blurted, my face hot with anger.

"It doesn't…doesn't really involve you, but I didn't want you to overreact or assume something that wasn't true."

"What do you mean? I don't understand," I admitted, feeling both irritated and foolish all at once.

"Victoria approached me last night before our session and told me that she'd overheard Mike Newton bragging to someone else that he'd drugged you at Laurent's party. She agreed to tell your father about it without implicating you in any way."

"Wait! What do you mean?" I said, grabbing onto his forearm, startling both him and me. I dropped my hand instantly before I could see the rejection in his eyes or that he'd been repulsed by my touch. I stepped awkwardly backwards, crashing into the locker behind me. I was inappropriately embarrassed; I almost felt like I'd been caught trying to kiss him.

"Charlie is going to freak out," I exclaimed, and found myself mimicking his pose, my hand grabbing at the hair near my scalp.

"Bella, please don't worry about that. He doesn't know about your involvement. Victoria told him that Mike tried to get her to eat a cookie and that he was pushing them on other girls at the party. That's all. It's enough information to take him in for questioning at least," he stated, clearly exasperated by the situation.

"Victoria said that?" I asked him. I knew it was a lie and I desperately wanted to talk with Victoria before I said anything to anyone, including Edward.

"Yes, but…" he wavered.

"But what?"

"Honestly Bella, I wish we had more on Mike Newton. There just isn't much evidence against him. I mean, he drugged you for chrissakes! Unless they find a large quantity of drugs on him, there's not much the police can do. And since there was no…assault…" His face twisted into a sour grimace. "I'm just afraid that all this was meaningless," he said, defeated, gesturing wildly.

"Maybe Charlie will scare him enough that he won't do it again?" I offered, feeling the need to try and lift Edward's spirits. He seemed to take this all so personally and I couldn't stand to see him so low.

"I wish I could protect you from him," he said so quietly that I almost didn't believe he said the words at all. The look in his eyes was fierce though, as if he'd kill for me. I was overwhelmed and looked away, almost frightened by the passionate but confusing emotions I sensed from him.

I was still looking at my hands when the bell rang, jolting us out of our little bubble of conversation. Edward's posture changed immediately when students began to amble out of the classrooms and into the hall. He stiffened, tugging on the lapels of his jacket, his face an impassive mask. He almost looked like a teacher or a parent – older – and I was crushed by this realization. He was so out of my reach.

"Goodbye Bella," he said as he turned. I watched his tall form retreat as he walked to the exit at the end of the hall.

Thankfully, Mike Newton didn't return to school on Thursday or Friday. And by Friday afternoon I finally stopped scanning the hallways anxiously and allowed myself to relax a little.

Just as I'd predicted, Charlie was more than thrilled that I'd been invited to the Cullen's again. I'd fretted about asking him until the last possible moment – right before he left for work on Friday morning. Charlie ignored my nervousness and my jumbled, but practiced plea, smiling and clapping his hand on my shoulder, readily agreeing. In fact he seemed more than accommodating, suggesting that I stay as long as I wanted on Saturday so that he could get a little fishing done.

I ran up to my room to pack an overnight bag. But first I added a few lines on my _Trust List _as I had taken to calling it.

_6. I trust Charlie to allow me to have friends._

_7. I trust Charlie to always want me to come back home_.

I had all my clothes and toiletries packed, but hesitated at the top of the stairway. I turned and ran back into my room, grabbing my pink blanket, my old paperback copy of _Pride and Prejudice_, and Bubba and crammed them into my bag. I experienced a familiar, hollow pang of anxiety as I stood to go and realized with some consternation, that it was the feeling I always got when packing. My subconscious remembered this process – packing, leaving, evading – it had been the core of my existence for so long.

I left my overnight bag in the cab of my truck on Friday morning. Alice's dad had dropped her off in the morning on the way to the hospital so she was riding home with me. Even though my truck was a big, loud monster, I was excited to drive Alice home. When she hopped up into the cab after school she was equally excited – but not for the same reasons.

Jasper was supposed to arrive at her parent's house just before we got there and Alice could hardly contain herself on the drive home. She kept pushing me to go faster, no matter how many times I told her that my foot was flat to the floor and the truck was hitting its maximum speed.

Sure enough, when we finally drove out of the path of trees, revealing the beautiful and elegant house on the hill, Jasper was standing out in front waiting for us to arrive. He was leaning against his motorcycle, one long jean-clad leg stretched out in front of him. His head was tilted to the side, his smile cocky but genuine. Alice sprang out of the cab of my truck toward him, his sexy grin widening as he caught her in his arms.

They didn't kiss, but just held each other tightly as if simply absorbing every part of each other. I climbed down from the truck, slugging our bags along with me. It wasn't until I'd stumbled near the couple that they tore themselves from each other long enough to bind their lips together. I tried to adjust the bags while I waited for them to finish, slinging my bag over one shoulder and Alice's backpack over the other when Jasper finally pulled back for a breath and caught my eye, winking.

"Bella boo, how's it goin'?" he asked casually. Of course I blushed. With the amount of raw sex appeal he emitted, it couldn't be prevented.

"Um, I'm good," I replied, looking away.

"Let me take that," he said, grabbing Alice's bag in one hand and mine in the other. I tried to protest, but he simply shrugged me off, beginning to climb the stairway up to the house. Before we'd made it to the entryway, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Esme.

"Bella!" she said warmly, reaching out to embrace me.

"It's nice to know she's at least happy to see you," Alice teased.

"Oh Alice, you know I love you. I'm just so happy to see Bella again," she replied, releasing me and pulling both Alice and Jasper in for a hug.

"And I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here, Jasper, and in one piece, I might add. I'm not sure if we could deal with much more of all this mooning and pining for you. Will you take Alice with you when you leave?" she asked with a devilish smirk on her face.

"Oh Esme, I know you couldn't live without her," he replied good-naturedly as Esme turned and led us into the house.

Jasper peeled off to Alice's bedroom to drop off our bags. Alice and I followed Esme into the kitchen as she began to pull jars out of the pantry and place them on the counter. Alice sat down on a barstool on the other side of the counter and I sat down next to her.

"You guys got here so early today. No one else is home yet. Dinner won't be for a while. It's such a rare, gorgeous day outside, why don't you go for a short hike or something?" Esme suggested.

"That's a great idea," Jasper agreed as he walked into the room. He came to stand between the stools, draping an arm around both our shoulders. "What do you girls think?" he asked, arching his eyebrows suggestively. I couldn't help giggling at his look, covering my mouth with my hand to stifle the sound.

"Ooh, I've got a great idea," said Alice, stepping around Jasper to grab my hand. "We'll be back in a little while, Mom," Alice yelled over her shoulder as she pulled me from the room and into the hallway. She opened a narrow doorway that I hadn't noticed before, flipping on the light switch and revealing a long stairway.

"What's this?" I asked, peering down.

"The garage," she answered excitedly, beginning to descend. I followed behind her, with Jasper clomping down behind me. When we got to the bottom she flipped on another switch, illuminating the huge four car garage. There was a black BMW parking on one side of the garage which I assumed belonged to Esme. But the rest of the space was taken up with storage and various other types of vehicles.

I first noticed a small, beautiful wooden motorboat on a trailer parked near the back, and a few jet skis leaning against the side wall. A bright orange snowmobile sat next to a rack with life vests, inflatable inner tubes, skis and poles, water skis, fishing poles, and camping gear.

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "You guys have everything." I spun in a circle, taking on all the other things tucked neatly away on the custom shelving: games, sporting equipment, tools, and old appliances. There was even a long shelf full of homemade jams in hues of reds and purples that caught my eye.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Alice said, tugging on a heavy blue tarp until it slipped off of a motorcycle parked on the other end of the garage. "This is why we're here. We're going to teach you," she said mischievously, with a Cheshire cat smile.

"Wh-what?" I stuttered as Jasper reached out to help Alice remove the tarp.

"That's a great idea, Alice. Bella can handle the Thunderbird," he said, squinting his eyes at me in a scrutinizing way, as if measuring my mettle. "It's either that or a tattoo. What you think, Bella, want a phoenix rising on your shoulder here?" Jasper said, circling, until he was behind me, placing his hand lightly on my left shoulder blade.

"You guys aren't serious," I stated uncertainly, hoping I was right.

"Nah, not about the tattoo anyway," Jasper replied, flashing his white teeth at me so that adorable dimples appeared in his cheeks.

"Stop teasing her, Jasper," Alice chided, hitting him on the arm. "But really, Bella, the Thunderbird is easy to drive…really stable…don't you want to try?" she asked, batting her lashes at me. "I'll show you first."

"Um, I don't know," I said hesitantly. "This motorcycle looks really fancy. What if I break it?"

"You won't break it, Bella. This here is a sturdy bike. She's a 1950 Triumph Thunderbird. She was the one my dad bought for me." I stepped forward to touch the shiny frame of the bike, the unique turquoise paint flawless and vibrant. "We restored her together. My dad was…hard on me. He wouldn't give her to me until I knew her inside and out. I could take her apart and put her back together now with my eyes closed," he said, reaching out to squeeze the handlebars affectionately.

"Come on," he said, pushing the bike forward off its kick stand. "Alice hit the garage door," he instructed. She pushed a button on the wall and one of the big garage doors began to rise. Jasper began to push the motorcycle down the driveway and along a narrow dirt road that ran into the forest, disappearing into the trees.

"Bella, come," Alice said, pulling on my arm. I was gaping after Jasper, nervous and feeling pressured.

"I don't know, Alice. I don't think…"

"I'll go first. You'll see. You don't have to go fast or anything. It's easy," she reassured, tugging more insistently on my arm. I finally shuffled forward, my feet stirring up little pillows of dust behind me.

I looked down the shadowed dirt road, but could see no sign of Jasper or the bike. I was just turning to ask Alice where he'd gone when I heard an extremely loud engine roar to life and Jasper flew by us in a blur of turquoise. He howled like a like a cowboy as he passed, swirling dirt shooting like a comet behind the motorcycle's back wheel.

He circled back and came to an abrupt stop directly in front of us. "Get on sweetheart," Jasper said as he gracefully jumped off of the bike. He offered Alice his hand, helping to pull her small body over the motorcycle and to situate her on the leather seat. He kissed her quickly on the lips before releasing her hand. "Just watch her, Bella," he said, stepping back toward me. I watched as Alice placed her feet on little footpegs on the side of the motorcycle, her hands tightly gripping the handlebars.

I was trying to watch all her movements carefully, but before I was ready for her to go, she lurched forward and sped off. Though she was definitely going much slower than Jasper, she still disappeared from sight fairly quickly. I could hear the sound of the engine echoing through the trees as it faded in the distance and then more loudly as she reappeared.

She was smiling hugely as she slid off of the bike, Jasper springing forward to steady it for her. "Your turn, Bella," she trilled happily over the sound of the engine before Jasper shut it down.

"Okay, Bella come sit on the bike," Jasper said, urging me toward him. I felt my stomach sink and my breath sucked from my lungs. I stumbled forward cautiously, inhaling deeply as I placed my hand in Jasper's. He showed me how to position myself against the tank to find my balance on my left leg before swinging my right up over the bike to mount it. I listened to his instructions carefully, and was surprised how easily I hoisted myself onto the seat.

When I was sitting on the bike, with Jasper's hands still on the handlebars, he walked me through all the controls. I tried to follow along, but I was nervous and confused by all the unfamiliar jargon. He kept talking about the chassis, which sounded like some kind of horse-riding term to me, and the throttle, which was equally unfamiliar. He seemed so confident that I could learn though, that I tried my hardest to memorize what he'd taught me.

I repeated it all over and over in my head before I dared try to move. _Throttle and front brake in right hand, clutch lever in left hand, rear brake with right foot, shift lever with left foot_ …

When I finally nodded, Jasper kick-started the engine for me while still holding the handlebars. "Ready?" he asked excitedly, looking me square in the eye.

"Yes," I replied, taking a deep breath. My hands were already sweaty when I carefully twisted the throttle and felt the motorcycle jolt to life beneath me. Adrenaline surged through my veins, as I powered forward down the dirt road, trees streaming by. I went farther than I thought I would, enjoying the sensation of the wind against my face, the vibration between my legs. Remembering what Jasper had taught me, I slowed down, turned and returned down the road to where they were waiting for me.

I was exhilarated by the feeling of power, the large machine beneath me entirely under my control, moving effortlessly with each slight movement of my hands. I wasn't doing a great job shifting, but I'd easily picked up how to accelerate and to slow down. I was feeling euphoric as I got closer to where Alice and Jasper were waiting. I saw them in the distance and began to slow down even more when another figure appeared next to Jasper, tall with broad shoulders and a messy head of bronze-colored hair.

I lost focus for an instant, Edward's presence unsettling me. I twisted the throttle too quickly, revving the engine, causing the front wheel to lift from the ground. I panicked, yanking hard on the brake. They locked and the motorcycle began to skid. I tried to regain control the bike's movement, but it continued to fly off toward the trees, slipping more and more sideways until I worried that I could no longer hold on.

My thoughts were shockingly clear in that last moment when I had to decide if it was better to fly off of the motorcycle or be crushed underneath it. Yet, I knew I didn't have a choice. I had to let go; my fingers just weren't strong enough. I tensed all my muscles in preparation for impact with the ground.

I released my hands, feeling the motorcycle being ripped away. Rather than flying through the air, I had the sensation I was falling and slammed my eyes closed. The chaotic sound of metal crashing and crumbling around me shattered the stillness of the moment. I have a particularly acute memory of the scent of pine and the earthy aroma of the forest surrounding me before I felt a searing pain on the left side of my body.

The last thing that I remember was a horrible crunching sound followed by a bloodcurdling scream that I will never forget. It pierced through my skin, ringing in my throbbing head before I was ultimately engulfed in silence.

End Notes:

Though I've explained my vision for this story to many of you who have reviewed and PM'd me, I know that there are many of you who are still wary about the age difference of the characters in this story.

I even had a reader tell me that she was no longer going to read, because the idea of a man preying on a young girl in this way bothered her too much. I hope that there are not others out there who feel this way. I should be clear, that there will be no love affair between these two until Bella is older.

Though there are many awkward and tortured feelings that exist between the two, Edward is an upstanding guy – a gentleman – who would never use his position of authority to manipulate Bella.

I've envisioned this story in two distinct parts, the current time period will tie up soon (within the next few chapters,) and then we will jump to several years in the future.

I think that one of the most interesting themes of the Twilight story is the idea of a love that transcends all obstacles, no matter how difficult they seem to overcome. In this story, age and experience are the main obstacles. The timing is all wrong. Despite this, Bella and Edward still feel and experience a deep love for each other. The torture, the passion all comes from the fact that they can't act on it. They will have to wait.

I think you guys will find that it's worth it! So please stick with me. And know that I will do my best to treat this subject matter with as much delicacy as I can.

Thanks guys! I really love this story and these characters!

Please please review! And tell me you'll stay on this journey with me!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I can't believe the incredible response I got for the last chapter, and I simply can't thank you all enough! I get so much personal satisfaction from writing this story, but sharing it with all of you, hearing your thoughts, and interacting with you is even more rewarding!

I do try to respond to each and every review, but I am beginning to get a little overwhelmed and find that I don't have the time to respond to everyone. Please forgive me if I don't get back to you. I will do my best though, because I love writing back to you – and you deserve to know how much I appreciate you!

Thank you so much to my beta, ms. ambrosia for being all around wonderful, and for reminding me that there is such a thing as a compound word.

Disclaimer: I don't own, SM does. _

The Inside of a Kaleidoscope

I couldn't remember ever being in the meadow before, but I felt calm and peaceful there, happier than I'd felt in a long time. I stretched my arms out to the sky and twirled around in a circle, spinning faster and faster until I was so dizzy that I fell to the ground, the green grass tickling my skin. My body felt light as a feather. If a strong wind gusted across the meadow, I would drift away like the wispy seeds of a dandelion.

I looked up into the sky, but couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. It was as if the world was broken into little pieces like the inside of a kaleidoscope, fractured bits of lines, colors and textures floating in space above me. I concentrated, but my mind couldn't put the picture back together.

I began to grow frustrated. I knew that something was wrong. As soon as I realized this, my body grew heavy and solid, sinking deeper into the ground. The tickling on my arms and legs turned first to itchiness, then to tingling pain.

"Charlie?" I heard someone say and I knew at once that it was my mother. But that somehow didn't seem right. And yet, I felt anxious. I needed to talk to her; I had important things to say, but I couldn't remember what they were.

"I think she's waking up," my mother said, her voice a soft caress, sweeter than she'd ever sounded before.

The tickling sensation in my hand grew in intensity until I wiggled my fingers to make it stop. I heard a gasp and forced my eyes open to see what had startled my mother.

"Bella!" my father said, squeezing my hand, and I looked up into his worried eyes, his eyebrows curling downward like two fuzzy caterpillars.

"Where's mom?" I asked him, blinking against the dim light in the room.

"Your mom…what? Bella…why do you…?" he stammered, looking back over his shoulder as if the answer was hiding there.

"Bella honey, are you okay?" Esme said, stepping out of the shadow to look down at me. "Charlie," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "You should get the doctor." He nodded mechanically and stood, squeezing my hand before he turned and disappeared from my view.

"Where's my mom?" I asked again.

"Honey, what do you remember?" she asked.

"Um, I heard her voice…my mom's." As the words fell from my mouth I knew they weren't right, but I still couldn't sort it all out.

"Bella, do you know where you are?"

"I'm in the hospital," I said plainly, knowing instantly that the words were true. Brief, stunted flashes of imagery began to stream into my mind, triggering my memory. The motorcycle…the crash…a bloodcurdling scream…burning, searing pain…blood on my leg…Alice's red face dripping with tears.

I'd drifted in and out of consciousness after it happened. Edward was there, holding my hand so tightly. Even though I was worried, terrified even, his hand in mine anchored me to the earth, and gave me something to focus on besides the hot stabs of pain shooting across my broken body. I felt that as long as he held me, I could suspend time and evade the abject dread that threatened to consume me.

I stared into his green eyes until the fear they radiated became too much to bear and I found myself slipping into a numb blackness. I couldn't face the damage I'd done. I could feel hands shaking me, words being spoken, but I was too scared to return to him.

When I woke up next, I was in the ambulance. The road was so bumpy it felt like we were tumbling over boulders, my wounded body cringing with each lurch and dip in the road. Charlie was there, holding my hand, looking grim.

I think I was screaming, or it might have been someone else. My leg felt strange, throbbing and pulsing as though I could feel the heavy, slow surge of blood in my veins. I tried to pay attention, to figure out what was happening, but I was so tired, so weak. I closed my eyes again.

It was very bright when I opened my eyes next. I was lying down and we were crashing through a wall…no, they were doors. And then I was so sleepy again – exhausted - that my eyes drifted closed.

Esme was holding my hand. She was so patient, her hand warm, her face open and understanding as she waited for me to straighten all the shards of my fractured memory. I'd been in an accident…on Jasper's motorcycle. I crashed. I was in the hospital. My mother wasn't here – she was dead.

_Did I almost die?_ I wondered. I looked down toward my feet to see the damage, but my legs were inconveniently obscured by the thin hospital sheet.

I was about to ask Esme some questions when my father reappeared with a doctor.

"Ms. Swan," he said formally. He had a big nose and squinty eyes. I knew that I should have listened to him and given him my attention, but I turned away to look at Esme instead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

When I didn't answer, Esme prodded. "Bella, honey, we're all so happy that you're awake. But the doctor needs to talk to you and ask you some questions. Do you think you can do that?"

"Okay," I replied, embarrassed by my behavior, shifting my body slightly, inadvertently causing excruciating pain to flare down the left side of my torso and into my leg.

"Argh!" I winced, my heartbeat accelerating. With some difficulty, I pulled my left arm above the covers. I examined it like it was a foreign object, not a part of me, but separate. It was a mottled mess of brown and purple bruised flesh, partially covered with a thick swath of gauze. I hesitated to even speculate what my skin looked like under the bandage.

Feeling a burst of clarity through the shock and pain, I fired out a string of hysterical questions. "What happened? My leg? The screaming…and the motorcycle…is my skin…? Am I okay?" I was all at once anxious, but also terrified to piece the events together clearly and to know seriousness of my injuries.

"You were in a motorcycle accident," the doctor replied with a patronizing look on his face that I found irritating. He tapped my good arm in what he probably thought was a reassuring way, but annoyed me even further. I flinched, pulling my arm away, again forcing a little shudder of pain to flicker through my body.

"I know that!" I snapped.

"Bella, you broke your leg," Esme explained, sensing my irritation.

"How…how bad?" I stammered, panicked.

"Really, it's amazing you didn't have any brain trauma," the doctor explained. "In most motorcycle accidents, especially without a helmet, there is usually some brain trauma and in the worst cases of course, permanent brain damage. You're very lucky that you landed like you did, young lady…"

"Look! You don't need to give my daughter a lecture or to worry her any further. Just answer her question!" Charlie rebuked firmly, the doctor visibly blanching at his tone.

"Oh, well, let's see here," he said, rifling through the pages on the clipboard in his hand. "So, you it looks like you suffered a complete compound fracture of your left tibia and fibula. We immediately took you into surgery when you arrived at the hospital."

"I had surgery?" I asked, astounded that I'd been operated on and that I had no memory of it.

"Yes," the doctor answered.

"You were in there almost three hours, Bella," Charlie said, looking tired and defeated.

"Am I going to be alright? I mean, my leg? And did I hurt my arm?" I asked, lifting it gingerly to test its tenderness.

"Your arm is simply bruised and covered with road rash that should eventually heal with minimal scarring. As far as your leg goes, we inserted a titanium nail into your tibia, which will remain there permanently, unless you should have any problems with it in the future. Your fibula should heal on its own, with time. We've put you in a cast that you'll wear for the next six weeks."

At this point, he pushed my sheet aside, revealing the cast my leg was imprisoned in, presenting it as if it were a masterpiece to be admired. He knocked on it with his knuckles for effect.

"No walking at all for six weeks. After that you can start using crutches, and then you'll need some physical therapy. Probably by five to eight months you should be fully recovered. But it varies. It's really up to you and how hard you work at it," he said, shoving the clipboard under his arm.

"How long does she need to stay in the hospital?" Charlie asked, his shoulders sagging. I could see his stress in the lines around his eyes, the way his hands were clenched at his sides. I wondered how this was going to work. How was I going to do anything for myself if I couldn't walk? How would I get to school? How would I get to the bathroom when I needed to go? How would I shower? My mind was reeling from all the questions flitting through my mind.

"At least another five days…a week at the longest. Then you can take her home," he said with an awkward smile before clapping Charlie on the shoulder. "The nurse will be in to check you in a few minutes. Your visitors are welcome to come in now," he said before shuffling out of the room.

As it turns out, all the rest of the Cullens, including Jasper and Rosalie, had been waiting for several hours out in the waiting room. They had me on so much pain medication that I didn't remember much of their visits, except for the sympathy in their eyes, their hands squeezing my fingers.

Even Edward's visit was a blur. And what I could later remember of it was not pleasant. He seemed to have somehow blamed himself for the accident. I could see the remorse in his expression, the guilt making him timid and hesitant. I recoiled from the tormented look he cast on me. But I was too weak, my senses too dulled to reassure him, to allay his misplaced, misguided feelings. So I simply closed my eyes, succumbing to the weight of the drugs pumping through my veins, and evaded the nagging worries that haunted me even in unconsciousness.

Five hazy and surreal days later the squinty-eyed doctor released me from the hospital. With Charlie on one side and one of the many nameless nurses on the other, I was propped up, lifted, and clumsily positioned in a wheelchair.

The struggle just to get me out of the hospital bed and into Charlie's cruiser was enough to give me a hint of how difficult life was going to be once I was home. I couldn't believe what an incredible burden I'd become for Charlie. I could only hope he still wanted me in his life now that he knew what a disaster I was.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, tears already forming and welling in my eyes.

"Bella," he sighed, turning briefly to look in my direction, his hand reaching out to find mine. "I thought for a moment that I lost you…and I just got you back," he whispered, his voice faltering. "I'm just so glad you're okay. I mean, you're going to be okay," he clarified, clearing his throat. I nodded in response, unable to speak, but infinitely relieved by his words.

Silence settled over us as Charlie drove and I turned my attention to the road, taking in the calm familiarity of the world that somehow continued to turn when time had stopped for me. My thoughts were still a little muddled from the pain medication I was taking, but I was certain that Charlie wasn't headed home. I began to grow curious. _Where were we going? And what kinds of plans had been laid out for me already?_

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I have a confession and I hope you're okay with it. I think you will be. I just didn't know how to do it any other way. And they're nice people. You like them," Charlie rambled as if speaking to himself and I struggled to follow along and make sense out of his half-statements.

"Dad, what are you talking about?" I asked, resting my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes. "Could you explain a little more clearly, please?"

"Esme offered to take you in for a while. Two months or so…just until you can go back to school. They have an extra room and she's home during the day. She's a painter, you know? And she said she can do that with you there. I called your school and one of your teachers will come by each day and work with you for about an hour, so your school work won't suffer. And Edward even offered to continue with your therapy since you won't be able to make it to your group sessions."

"Oh," was my only response as I processed all this news.

"Esme is a remarkable woman. She insisted," he explained further.

"Yes. She's…wow, just really nice. I just don't want to be a burden," I muttered, feeling pathetic and needy and hating it.

"I was worried about that too, Bella. But she really insisted that she would love you to stay with them. And you should have seen how excited Alice was. She made us promise not to tell you. I think she's fixing up the guest room for you or something," he admitted.

I was still mulling over this new development in my life when we pulled into the driveway of the Cullen's house. I couldn't help but glance over at the dirt road where I'd crashed, thinking I might see some remnant of the accident – the broken bike, debris, a bloody scar on the ground - but it was just an empty road. I wondered about Jasper's motorcycle and if I'd completely destroyed it. I hoped he didn't hate me.

Charlie slipped out of the car, walking around to open my door. I looked up to see Alice bounding out of the front door of her house and down the stairway, Emmett following closely behind her. Alice was characteristically dressed in all black - even her lips and nails were black – dark, smoky circles dramatically outlining her eyes. Her attire was like a costume, the embodiment of darkness, appropriately serious and reflecting the somber mood of my situation. For the first time since the accident I found myself smiling at the sheer absurdity of Alice's outfit, the extent to which she took her creativity.

She slowed as she approached the car, bending down to give me a half-hug since I was still wedged in the car. She frowned at me, smiling almost shyly. We hadn't talked about the accident in the hospital. In fact, no one mentioned it. When I tried to apologize to Alice and Jasper they both had changed the subject immediately.

"Bella, I'm so happy you're here. Please let us take care of you," she said uncertainly, but with feeling, as if she expected me to reject her. And yet even if I wanted to, I had no choice. I didn't want to be obligated to the Cullens, but what else was I to do? And knowing that I was going to be close to Edward all the time was too enticing to deny.

Before I could respond to Alice, Emmett interrupted, putting his arm around Charlie's shoulders. "Hey Chief," Emmett said, looking him in the eye with concern. "You doing okay?"

"Yep," my dad said, shrugging, clearly not liking the attention. Emmett turned to me instead, bending as he got closer.

"Bella, baby, I'm gonna carry you, okay?" he said so sweetly that I actually blushed. I nodded and he slipped one beefy arm around my back and the other underneath my legs. He easily scooped me up from the car, careful of my leg, and carried me up the stairs without another word. I could hear Alice and my father's footfalls behind us.

Esme was bustling around inside, a pillow in one hand, a blanket dangling from the other. She stopped when she saw us, reaching out to place her hand on my cheek.

"You're here. I've been so anxious. We're so happy to have you, Bella," she said. "We finally have a use for that bedroom between Edward's and Alice's and I just feel…like…well, I wish that you were staying with us for different reasons…under different circumstances. But like I told Charlie, I already feel like you're family," she said as she slid her hand down to cup my jaw, fixing my eyes with a serious look.

"Emmett, take Bella down to her room, dear. She needs her rest," she instructed. He clutched me tighter to his chest, skipping down the stairs as if it took no effort at all to carry me.

"Here you go," he said as he eased me down on the bed in the guest room. "I'll let you get settled. Rosie and I found a house to rent, so we aren't staying here, but we'll both be by in a few days to say hi, okay?" I nodded sluggishly.

He crossed his arms over his broad chest as if waiting for some sign from me before he could leave. I blinked at him stupidly, unable to summon enough energy to form a coherent thought. He finally seemed to realize how tired I was, changing his stance and dropping his arms to his sides. He inhaled deeply, ruffling my hair gently in his large hand, sighing as he exhaled. "Take care of yourself, Bella," he said meaningfully before leaving me alone in my new room.

Esme and Alice appeared through the door moments later as I was hazily taking stock of my surroundings, noticing the faint smell of fresh paint, masked slightly by the fragrant blue pillar candles that were spread throughout the room. The candles actually matched the walls, a complimentary shade of lilac that felt both warm and cool at the same time.

Esme shoved the extra pillow in her hand behind my head, propping me up a little more, while she placed the woolen blanket over my legs. My hooded eyes followed Alice as she moved across the room to the window, adjusting the gauzy jewel-toned curtains until they were closed, casting the room in darkness. Within seconds I fell into a deep sleep where there were no dreams, only quiet, empty space.

When I woke up for the first time in my room at the Cullen's, I was much more alert than I'd been in days, and in much more pain as well. While heavily medicated, it had been easy to ignore my leg and to pretend that the accident never happened. But with the physical pain came the realization of how real and how frightening the ordeal had been…and still was.

Everything felt so unfamiliar in the blue room. Though strange to me, it was a lovely space, covered in a sea of blues and purples in varying shades. Candles were scattered about, on shelves, tables, and on the windowsill, with seashells randomly nestled on every available flat surface. There was a large painting of a starfish on the wall opposite the bed, so true to life that every ridge and bump on the sea creature's back seemed to stretch off the canvas.

A massive rectangular mirror with an intricate white frame hung next to the painting. It was low enough that I could see the striking photograph of a jellyfish that was mounted above my bed, just above my own reflection. Though I wasn't close enough to the mirror to see clearly, I could still see what I looked like – the intense, dark circles under my eyes, the dirty, stringy hair, hanging lifelessly against my wan face.

I tried to scoot down so that I wouldn't have to look at myself any longer, but instantly crumbled at the throbbing pain shooting up my left thigh. My body shuddered, vibrating, until I could find a position that somewhat relieved the pain. I searched the room fruitlessly for some way to call for help, while simultaneously hating myself for my obvious weakness.

"Ugh," I grunted, flinging my head back against the pillow in frustration just as my door flew open and Esme walked purposefully in toward me.

"Bella, you're awake! Are you in pain? It's time to take your medication," she said calmly, handing me a glass of water and dropping two pills in my hand which I greedily accepted. "I heard you on the baby monitor," she said, pointing to a white object on a narrow shelf above my head. "I've been listening, but don't worry, it was just for today. I've plugged all our numbers into your cell phone and it can charge right here," she said, pulling a cable out to show me where the outlet was located.

"Everyone has been instructed to have their cell phones on them at all times, even in the house. I've also got a two way radio, here," she said, as she pulled out a small drawer in the bedside table, retrieving a black walkie-talkie, similar to the ones I'd seen kids sometimes playing with. "I have the other one upstairs. So if you should need anything at all, you just push this button and ask, and I'll be down here as quickly as possible."

"Is all this really necessary?" I asked, trying not to sound ungrateful for all her trouble.

"Of course it is," she replied with conviction.

Life, as it always does, slipped into a routine. On school days, Alice woke me up in the morning to say goodbye before she left. Soon after, Esme slipped into my room and helped me hobble to the bathroom on my crutches. She'd had a sturdy plastic chair placed in the shower so that I could sit on it while I bathed, making things much easier for me.

Esme usually had breakfast waiting for me on a tray in my room by the time I was done with my shower. Sometimes she sat with me while I ate and we talked about everything from gardening and her favorite things to grow (heirloom tomatoes and sunflowers), to her favorite movie stars when she was younger (Richard Chamberlain and Omar Sharif). We spent most of our mornings talking about books and our favorite writers (Harper Lee, Flannery O'Connor, John Irving, Jane Austen, Henry James…). I was growing to love her more and more and often wondered why my mother couldn't have been more like Esme. Why couldn't she have approached the world, with courage and curiosity and intelligence, instead of fear and ignorance and selfishness?

As our days together drew us closer together, I grew afraid of getting too dependent on Esme – not just for the physical care she gave me, but for the maternal companionship she provided. I'd never had so much attention showered on me and I knew that I would be crushed when it would inevitably come to an end. But until that time, I relished my mornings with her, locking all our conversations away in a safe place in my heart where they couldn't be tarnished by the rest of my disastrous life.

I spent much of my time alone in my room reading or working on school assignments. It was at these times, when I was alone, that I found myself fantasizing about Edward. Knowing that there was a possibility that he could be just on the other side of the wall was maddening. And then when I actually heard him – walking across the floor, moving items around – I tried to will him to come to me. But it didn't happen. I hadn't seen him since I was in the hospital. I worried that he was deliberately avoiding me, that maybe he'd decided that it was too awkward having me in the room next door. I tried to keep my thoughts from gravitating toward him, but it was almost as if I could feel his energy seeping through the walls, beckoning me like a siren's call. But my leg imprisoned me, my bulky cast like a ship's anchor on the bottom of the sea, stuck and immobile.

With Esme's help, I slowly weaned myself from the heavy pain medication, but one afternoon, when Mrs. Clearwater appeared in the doorway to my room, I thought I was still hallucinating. She somehow seemed unreal, an apparition. She was so very out of place standing in front of me in a worn pair of jeans and a tight green t-shirt, her long hair loose and beautiful, draping over her shoulders. It was as if she couldn't exist outside of the classroom or without her feathers or her hair bound and tightly contained.

But she was very real, her arms full of a rather hefty stack of papers. She smiled before she lowered herself into the chair Esme had placed next to my bed for my visitors, proceeding to cover all the schoolwork that I'd missed the past several weeks. She spent three hours at my beside that day, but spent much less time every following day, instead simply giving me a list of my assignments and allowing me to catch up on my work on my own.

I looked forward to her visits, even if they were short and succinct. Charlie too came to visit me most days in the early evening. Often his visits would overlap with Mrs. Clearwater's and he'd sit on the end of my bed listening quietly while we talked about the Shakespeare play I was supposed to be reading for my English class or the photosynthesis lab in biology I'd missed that they were allowing me to do on the computer instead. After we were done, Charlie usually walked Mrs. Clearwater out while I looked over my assignments and sometimes I could hear bits and pieces of their mumbled conversation as they walked down the hallway.

Alice, of course, spent most of her days and evenings in my room, keeping me company, entertaining me with idle gossip about what was happening at school. She passed on this information mechanically, not very adept at repeating information because she wasn't invested in it, not really caring about the bitchy things Lauren Mallory said or what guy asked what girl to the upcoming dance.

One day, however she did have news that interested me – she'd seen Jacob Black picking Victoria up after school and he'd wrapped his lanky arms around her, kissing her in front of a large audience of students. I had mixed feelings about this news. I couldn't help but feel some responsibility for pushing them together and I hoped that my meddling didn't force something that wouldn't have happened naturally. On the other hand, if they could find some shred of happiness in each other, then my half-baked scheming to get them together it was definitely worth it.

As I struggled through all the school work I'd missed, Alice had been passionately scribbling away on a large, elaborate sketch, lying on her stomach with her feet in the air, a rainbow of colored pencils scattered across my bed while she worked.

When she was finished with the colorful, intricate artwork, she presented it to me with a smile. "What do you think, Bella?" she asked.

"Oh Alice, it's just gorgeous. You are so talented. I love it!" I replied, propping it on my bedside table so that I could look at it more closely.

"No silly, that one's not for you. It's just a simple mock-up of my design, without all the finishing touches. Do you really like it?"

"Yes! Your design for what?"

"For your cast! Can I paint it?" she asked, her eyes alight with anticipation.

"Seriously? I don't think my ugly cast deserves so much attention. Really? I don't want you to waste your time on me. Besides, won't it be challenging to turn my cast into this?" I asked earnestly, holding up her drawing next to my leg. Despite my reservations, I was secretly excited to see her transform something that was so hideous and utilitarian into something I might not be so embarrassed by - something beautiful.

"Are you kidding, Bella? I accept the challenge!" Alice replied, jumping up off my bed and running off to her room. She spent several hours over the following days applying paint, pen, rhinestones, bits of words from newspapers, some leaves and even a shredded dollar bill, covering every square inch of my cast with color and imagery. It wasn't always comfortable, but the end result was entirely worth all the long sessions in weird positions, Alice hovering around me with her paintbrush.

When Alice finally declared that she was finished painting, Esme and Carlisle came down to my room to see her masterpiece. Rosalie and Emmett, who were over for dinner, even slipped in later to say hello and complimented me on my new and very conspicuous accessory. But Edward was glaringly absent. In fact, if I hadn't heard him or undeniably sensed him on the other side of the wall from me, I would never have believed that he lived in the same house as the rest of us. He seemed more like a figment of my overactive imagination than a real person.

I wasted so much time and energy thinking about him – wondering where he was, what he was doing, who he was seeing. I was entirely preoccupied with the notion that he was avoiding me. But what depressed me even more was the thought that he simply had no time for me, he was no longer interested in me, and that he'd forgotten his promise.

I was fixated for days on the notion of asking about him, but couldn't build the nerve to point out to anyone else what was so obvious to me – his complete and thorough avoidance of me. And I was too afraid that asking about him would expose my raw need for his presence. So I remained silent on the subject, always listening for any scrap of news of him, any mention of his name.

It became disturbingly easy to twist my thoughts until they were dark and tortured, my insecurities expanding to enormous proportions in the loneliness of my blue prison. As the days passed, I grew more and more sullen, barely finding the strength to answer questions, to return smiles, to pretend that I was hopeful about anything at all.

I found myself sleeping at odd hours of the day while Alice was at school and Esme was distracted, holed up in her art studio painting. I did my schoolwork late at night, not allowing myself to sleep until I was thoroughly exhausted, and could no longer hold my eyes open.

My last thoughts of the day were almost always of Edward – his hands holding mine, his green eyes showing so much that he never could say. My longing was so palpable that my body nearly vibrated with need. No matter how closely I listened, straining my ears for even the littlest sound through the wall, any sign that he was actually there, I slipped into unconscious unsatisfied.

I was beginning to accept that he'd made a deliberate decision to no longer see me, when he abruptly reentered my life. It had been an especially tiring day. I'd been restless, realizing that I needed to start attempting to navigate the house with my crutches. With Esme's help, we practiced scaling the stairs until after much exertion on both our parts, I'd finally made it up to the main level of the house.

I'd spent the afternoon in the kitchen, watching Esme prepare dinner and helping her chop vegetables for the stew she making. Alice was so excited that I was up and about that she'd encouraged me to practice walking with my crutches and we made several circuits of the main floor together, stopping to look at something here and there and promenading like we were in a museum.

When Carlisle came home, the four of us had a very casual dinner together at the long wooden table. Edward didn't eat with us and no one made mention of his absence. I had grown weary of hoping that every little creak of the stairs or shift of the floorboards was a sign of him approaching and just tried to focus on appearing genuinely appreciative for everything I'd been given.

As was my new routine, I started my homework late, reading into the early hours of the morning. I was more tired than usual, finding myself struggling to keep my eyes open long enough to read another page of Kurt Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse Five._ I'd read the same strange sentence over several times, stumbling over the outlandish metaphors: _"The legs of those who stood were like fence posts driven into a warm, squirming, farting, sighing earth. The queer earth was a mosaic of sleepers who nestled like spoons."_

Just as I folded the corner of the page, dropping the book on the floor, I heard the faint sound of music floating through the wall. It was a mellow, sleepy sounding jazz song with saxophones and a deep, melodious bass. I listened eagerly, absorbing the feeling of the music, as if hearing it brought me closer to Edward. The music became like a lullaby, relaxing me until I slipped effortlessly into sleep.

_I looked down and saw my hands on the handlebars, watching them closely as I opened my fingers and let go. Instead of hurtling toward the ground like I expected, I flew upward, circling in the sky, looking down at the scene below me. _

_Three figures hovered over someone who was lying there, unmoving. I dropped closer to the earth to get a better view, but I couldn't see over their shoulders. I moved in closer still, until I was nearly touching the ground, my toes dragging in the dust. Who is it? I shoved someone away so I could look._

_There was blood…so much…a huge puddle so that it almost looked like the body was floating. Who is it? I thought, my eyes not yet able to focus on the face. And then it became clear. A face I knew as well as my own. It was my mother…she was bleeding…dying. There was so much blood. So I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could._

"Bella! Bella, wake up!" Someone was shaking me, their hands on my shoulders_. _"You're dreaming. It's okay. It's okay," they said to me. I felt exhausted, like I hadn't slept at all. _Was it morning already?_ I wondered.

I opened my eyes and he was there – Edward – and he was touching me, holding me. His arm slipped behind me and he pulled me closer to his body. He was rocking me, comforting me. I could hear his heartbeat, his voice reverberating in his chest as he spoke.

"You were screaming. You must have been having a nightmare. But you're okay now. I've got you. I won't let you go. I've got you," he whispered. I tangled my fingers in his shirt and held him close, pushing my cheek to his chest. His heartbeat comforted me more than any words he could say. For the first time since the accident, in Edward's arms, I felt safe, happy, and utterly content.

End Notes: For those of you who are keeping tabs, next chapter will be the last before we make a leap into Bella's future. I know there wasn't much Edward in this chapter and I apologize for that, but I promise that next chapter will be all Edward and Bella! I really can't wait to finish it and post it – I am terribly anxious and excited!

Thank you so much for reading! I can't wait to hear your comments – please leave me some!


	23. Chapter 23

**When I sat down to write this chapter I had no idea I was going to write a novel. This is by far, the longest chapter I've ever written, but since it is important and it's the transitional chapter that many of you have been waiting for, I spent a lot of time and energy trying to get it right.**

**I know I can't please everyone – though I'd like to – but some of you won't like the things that happen in this chapter. I'm prepared to address your criticisms and concerns in your reviews. Or PM me.**

**Ms. ambrosia had her work cut out for her on this one – it was a long, messy, grammatical disaster when I sent it to her. She's a saint and the best beta anyone could hope for.**

**Thanks also to nowforruin, my validation beta.**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I put Bella in therapy and made Edward her doc.**

That Kind of Man

It's simply amazing how different one day can seem from the next. I'd been as low and depressed as I could possibly feel, not even wanting to get out of bed or to leave my room. And then all at once, everything changed.

I would never forget the feeling of Edward's arms as they held me, strong, but gentle, warming me from my head to my toes. I had never felt safer. Nothing had ever seemed so right. Even when the memory of my dream began to slip from my mind, he continued to hold me.

I unconsciously snuggled in closer, daring to ease my head more firmly against his chest. With my nose pressed against his shirt, I breathed him in, inhaling deeply. Under the mask of the smell of laundry detergent, was a musky, spicy scent that seemed uniquely Edward. I closed my eyes tightly, savoring the moment, relishing his touch and the energy that surged from his body as it washed over me.

I tried not to be anxious in his arms, to allow myself to completely give in to the sensation I was experiencing, but after several minutes of embracing me in this way, I couldn't avoid the fear that he would pull away soon. I was mourning the loss of his touch before it even happened.

My emotions began to swell inside of me, my need for him twisting and contorting my insides, causing my body to tremble under his hands. His head tipped down toward me and I could feel him breathing into my hair. I became acutely aware of his fingers on my arms, as they lightly – almost too lightly - caressed them, from my shoulders to my elbows and back up again.

"Shhh," he comforted, quietly, his soft voice an extension of his careful movements, yet even this small interruption of the silence startled me. My mind focused on fully taking advantage of whatever comfort Edward was offering. I wanted to feel it all, everything at once, but I was overwhelmed by how deeply he affected me.

I felt desperate to lift my arms to return his touch, but the more I fixated on this thought, the more my body betrayed me. No matter how hard I tried to remain calm, I grew increasingly nervous and awkward in his embrace. I found myself shuddering uncontrollably with a raw emotion that I wasn't even capable of understanding.

"I'm here. I won't let go," he promised again, misinterpreting my anxiety. He placed his hand on my head, gently dragging it down through my hair and coming to rest on my back. He repeated the gesture until I found myself calming infinitesimally. And yet every caress, every gesture of comfort, ultimately increased my agitation.

I tried to quiet my overactive mind, to quell my frustration, and I found that if I compartmentalized my thoughts and simply concentrated on the movement of his hand, I could better handle the shockwaves that pulsed through my limbs with each stroke. His warm hands that should have been calming were instead electrifying.

My uncontrollable response filled me with anguish. Why couldn't I sink into the moment and allow Edward to comfort me? Why must my body react so erratically, so awkwardly to his touch? I stiffened in his arms, driving him away, and causing the very action I'd been dreading.

"Bella," he sighed, pulling back, and I felt the air slip between us like a gust of icy wind ghosting against my skin.

He released me slowly, adjusting me gently back down onto my pillow. His eyes found mine and I could see, even in the dim light, that they were full of confusion, as though he was also suffering through a jumble of conflicting emotions. When he finally stood, he threw me a pitying look that I was unprepared to confront and I looked quickly away, not wanting him to see the regret and pain in my eyes.

"Bella," he said, his voice luring my gaze back to him. His body was illuminated by the light from the hallway, making him seem more like a figment of my imagination than a real man. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stood uncomfortably in my doorway, his gesture reminding me that his hands had just been on my hair and on my skin - touching me, feeling me.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked awkwardly, his posture uncertain, as if he was just realizing that he'd done something wrong.

"Um…yeah, I guess," I replied, my voice croaking and sounding strange from disuse. Edward frowned, shifting on his feet. He seemed unhappy with my answer and I immediately felt guilty for putting that look on his face. He'd been so kind, so caring, and I didn't want him to think – for even an instant – that I wasn't grateful for the attention he'd given me.

Before he'd left my room, he'd mentioned something about sleeping pills, but I was so preoccupied by the thought that he was leaving that I barely listened. I worried that as soon as he walked through the door, he was going to disappear from my life for a second time. I was trying to think of a way to get him to promise to come visit me again when my brain finally focused and caught a word that slipped from his lips.

"Therapy?" I asked, repeating the word.

"Yes, I was just saying that if it's okay with you, we'll have a session tomorrow evening," he said eagerly, waiting for a response. I wished that the light wasn't so dim so that I could see his face more clearly. And yet, the cloak of darkness was freeing. Here in the shadows it felt safer to express myself.

"Yeah, that…that would be great," I replied, trying to mask my enthusiasm, my pitiful hope.

"Okay, then…sleep well, Bella."

I heard the door click and then a creaking sound a few seconds later as the bed shifted on the other side of the wall. I pulled the blankets up around me and closed my eyes, feeling the weight of my emotional fatigue hit me. Knowing that I was going to see Edward again soon eased my mind, giving me something to hope for, and to look forward to. And I knew that the sooner I fell asleep, the sooner tomorrow would come.

When my eyes opened the next morning I felt completely different about things. I was anxious to start my day – eager even. Instead of waiting for Esme's help, I pulled my weak body out of bed by myself, hobbling on my crutches to the bathroom. When I was done taking my shower, I stood in front of the mirror and looked at the pasty, wan face that stared back at me, wet tendrils of hair framing my empty expression. I hardly recognized the girl in the mirror and resolved to put at least a little effort into what kind of image I projected to the world. I wasn't invisible anymore and if I was going to be seen, I needed to start caring.

Without help, it took much longer than usual to get dressed. Not only was I weak, but my cast threw my balance off, leaving me feeling terribly uncoordinated. It took all my energy to bounce clumsily on one foot while trying to slip my sweat pants over the other, struggling to stretch them over my bulky cast. When I was finally done with the pants, I flung myself against my dresser a little too forcefully, my hip uncomfortably biting the angled edge while I wrestled my snug-fitting thermal crewneck over my torso. Panting, I fell back onto my bed, exhausted and sweaty, but also invigorated by a surprising sense of accomplishment.

Thoughts of Edward floated beneath the surface of my mind, coloring all of my actions throughout the day. I tried to keep busy so that I wouldn't fixate on our session in the evening, pushing myself physically to do more than I'd done since the accident. Somehow though, everything I did made me think of him more. I couldn't get him, or how his touch affected me, out of my head.

I knew that somehow things had changed between us, but I had no idea why and how this happened. Why had Edward suddenly come to my room in the middle of the night? How would he act around me now? Would he treat me differently? What would he wear? What should I wear? And most significantly, why had he been avoiding me before?

By the time that Alice had come home from school, I was anxious, excited, and thoroughly sore. I'd refused to let Esme help me do anything all day, even making my own lunch and struggling my way up and down the stairs several times in an effort to stay preoccupied.

I didn't take my usual nap, but caught up on some reading for school and wrote three pages of an essay on Harper Lee's _To Kill a Mockingbird_ for my English class. Esme had loaned me her personal copy of the book – a beautiful hardbound version with her own notes scribbled in the margins in elegant cursive. I'd borrowed some of her ideas – probably from her high school days – since my mind was muddled with images of Edward…_Standing uneasily in my doorway, dragging his fingers through his wild locks of hair, his penetrating green-eyed stare that makes every molecule in my body vibrate and sing for him._

When Alice collapsed onto my bed, spreading her art supplies out and releasing a heavy sigh, I tossed the book on my bedside table and tried to focus my attention on her. I knew that I needed to make an effort to try and repair the damage I'd done to our relationship by selfishly wallowing in my depression for the last several weeks. I may have been jittery and distracted with thoughts of Edward and impatient to see him again, but I forced myself to listen carefully to her as she spoke about the drudgery of school and her surprisingly entertaining lunches in the library with Seth, whose worship and fear of her she secretly enjoyed. I made an effort to offer comments when she paused, and to answer her questions honestly.

Our conversation made its inevitable way to the topic of Jasper as she proceeded to give me a thorough account of her nightly phone conversations with him. It didn't take much to see that she'd been suffering too, lonely and longing for him.

I actually found myself smiling for the first time in many days as she showed me the odd-looking drawings Seth had scribbled in her sketch pad, resembling links of sausage more than the fingers of Alice's hand that they were supposed to be. She giggled at the image, but shook it off, telling me with a fierceness that only rarely surfaced that she would do what it took to find the artist inside of him.

"So you're committed to helping him?" I asked.

"Well yeah…he's strange, but funny. And most importantly, he's real…ya know? Like, he just is who he is and he doesn't care what other people think about him. I respect that," she declared strongly, nodding in affirmation.

We kept up a dialogue while Alice vigorously sketched her own version of a hand – mine - in her fat pad of paper. She never noticed or cared about the pencil marks smudged all over her fingers and on the side of her cheek as she lost herself in her artwork. Within only a few minutes her rendering of my hand popped out of the page, the curling fingers so detailed she even included the crooked grooves in my knuckles and the irregular swirl of my fingerprints.

As I watched her pencil move so deftly across the paper, I couldn't deny that I'd been hoping she'd at least mention Edward, my mind and heart eager for even the smallest, most insignificant bit of information. But though he was foremost on my mind, she didn't seem to think about him at all.

When my father appeared in my doorway, making his brief, daily visit, Alice scurried away to her own room to give us a private moment. We carried on the same stilted, tortured conversation we had everyday – where he asked me if I was feeling better and I shrugged noncommittally in response.

But this time it was different. When he asked if I was feeling better, I answered "yes." And I smiled. Charlie was so taken aback by my response that his mouth dropped open before he responded.

"I'm so glad, Bella. I've been pretty worried about you," he chuckled uncomfortably and I wished that I could somehow ease the awkwardness between us. "You know I wish that I could do more for you," he admitted. "I don't know what we would have done without the Cullens. I hope…well, I hope…you know that I wasn't trying to pawn you off on them or anything. Maybe I should have tried harder to do this on my own…taken some vacation…and hired…"

"No, Charlie, you did the right thing," I reassured him while trying to imagine how different it would have been stuck alone at home with a hired nurse to care for me. "The Cullens are really great."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have left you with them if I thought any different."

Before he left for the evening, Charlie wrung his hands nervously as he stood uneasily in my doorway and asked the same question he asked every night before leaving. "Um, Bella is there anything I can do for you? Anything?"

"Can you help me up the stairs?" I asked. You would have thought that I'd just given him the best gift he'd ever been given – a new fishing boat or a winning lottery ticket – by the way that he'd reacted. His face stretched into a wide smile, the lines crinkling around his eyes, and he stepped forward eagerly, his hands out.

After he'd helped me scale the stairs on my crutches and we'd made it to the main floor of the house, I walked Charlie to the door – well, he walked and I tottered on my crutches. I watched him nearly skip down the long, narrow stairway, taking several steps at a time. I chuckled at how happy he seemed, realizing just how much my moods affected him.

I closed the door and made my way to the kitchen, feeling that for once I could be helpful and offer to assist Esme with dinner. She too appeared bolstered by my improved attitude and genuinely happy to see me making an effort. She had me sit at a stool and gave me a the simple job of slicing some very fancy mushrooms that were gnarled and twisted as if tortured into submission. As soon as I was done, she took them and placed them into a pan on the stove with lots of butter, several cloves of minced garlic and a handful of fragrant herbs. When they were wilted and the kitchen was full of the incredible smell of her creation, she tossed the exotic mushrooms and the drippings with a bowl of fat strips of pasta, mixing them together skillfully with a set of long, silver tongs.

Alice, Esme and I ate alone at the table. I didn't really expect Edward to make an appearance so I wasn't _too_ disappointed by his absence. Besides, I really liked that it was just the three of us. It was so comfortable, so easy being with Alice and Esme, that I wished with all my heart that I truly belonged in the chair I was sitting in. I was living on borrowed time and I had to face the reality that I soon would be leaving their house.

When I returned to my room after dinner, I simply couldn't sit still. Knowing that any moment, Edward could walk through my door and reenter my life was stirring up all kinds of things inside of me – both physically and emotionally. If I wasn't restricted to my crutches, I probably would have been pacing back and forth across the room. As it was, my heart was beating like I was in motion, drumming rapidly in my chest and making it hard for me to take a deep breath.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my eyes trained on the closed door, my ears tuned to the sounds of the house, listening closely. The waiting was agonizing, drawing all my insecurities to the surface, all my fears. Would Edward really come? If he did, would he be different? Why would he even want to help me? Something had clearly kept him away for the past several weeks. Maybe he thought I was stupid for trying to ride on Jasper's motorcycle or maybe he'd been simply too busy to make time for me. And now, what had changed?

My fingers began to beat out a nervous rhythm on my legs and I closed my eyes, trying to conjure the patter of Indian drums in my mind. My heartbeat aligned to the sound in my head and I started breathing a little easier, the tension falling away from my shoulders.

I must have been more tired than I thought, possibly pushing myself a little harder than I should have. I found myself dead asleep on my bed, my feet still resting on the floor, when I was startled awake by a gentle knock on my door. I sprang up to a sitting position and was rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands when Edward eased the door open a crack, his neck arching through the opening to steal a look into the room.

"Bella…oh, were you resting?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Um, I…well…I…" I stammered, embarrassed. "No, I mean, I'm awake. I was just waiting for you…I mean, not for you, I, uh, I'm…"

"I can come back some other time if you want," Edward offered in a gentle voice.

"No! Really, I'm okay. I'm good."

"Oh, okay then." He sat down in the chair next to my bed, angling it closer to me. I shifted back on my hands, pulling my body back toward the headboard so that I could lean more comfortably. I reached down to pull my heavy leg up onto the bed, but Edward noticed my intent, and without words, he reached down and carefully lifted it for me.

"Better?" he asked as I adjusted myself.

"Uh huh."

He sighed heavily, licking his lips, and running his fingers through his hair. "Bella…I…I have to apologize," he said and my eyes widened at his words, wondering what could possibly be weighing on his mind.

"I should never have distracted you," he said bluntly.

"What? How?"

"When you were learning how to ride…on Jasper's motorcycle. I know that my presence threw off your concentration. If I hadn't come down to see what you were doing, you would never have lost control…you wouldn't be…injured," he winced, glancing pointedly at my leg.

"It wasn't you…I shouldn't have even tried to ride…I've never done it before…and I can be clumsy," I explained, hoping my whispered words would alleviate any worry he might still be harboring.

"I felt…I feel responsible. I told you I would protect you and…I didn't," he said woefully. "I knew you wouldn't be mad…you're too kind and generous. But I thought…I thought you might not want to see me. And I didn't want to remind you of what happened. I know how horrible post-traumatic stress can be, how damaging…and I wanted to ensure that you had time for your body to heal before anyone talked to you about the accident."

"Is that why no one talks about it? I mean, no one even mentions why I'm like this," I said, waving my arm toward my broken leg.

"Yes, I asked them – my mother, father, Alice, even Charlie – not to talk about it with you yet. Alice was the most difficult. She really wanted to apologize, to tell you how stupid she felt about the whole thing. Jasper too, wanted you to know that he didn't care about his motorcycle at all, that he just wants you to get better."

"Jasper? No one told me - is his motorcycle okay?"

"Yeah, it'll be alright. Bikes are generally a lot sturdier than people. He can fix it. That is, if your father ever lets him ride again. He was pretty worked up after the accident. I'd never seen him so upset. He really…cares for you, Bella. We all do," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"It was no one's fault but my own," I stated plainly. He nodded somberly, accepting my words.

"You do seem a little accident prone," he said, smiling. After the shock of his words wore off I realized that he was teasing me and I returned his smile.

"Hey! That's not nice," I retorted, slapping his knee.

"Do you want to talk about last night…about your nightmare?" he said, changing the subject.

"Um, no…not really. I can't remember it very well," I replied, glancing down to my lap where my hands worriedly twisting around one another.

"It seemed kind of…disturbing. You were…screaming. I felt quite powerless to help you. Do you remember anything at all from it?"

"I do remember that my mother was in it. No matter what I dream, it seems like she shows up at some point. Even in places where she doesn't belong…you know, like places she's never even been before. I don't really know why…"

"Your subconscious is dealing with a lot of trauma. You've had to face things that many kids your age never face and all in a short period of time. It makes sense that your psyche is trying to make sense of it all, to organize it some kind of manageable way. And do you think that…maybe you feel guilty?"

"Guilty?"

"Sometimes when someone passes on…and the death is accidental, the family and loved ones they leave behind feel guilt that they survived, or sometimes they even feel responsible."

"I don't feel responsible," I retorted quickly. "I know that she did it to herself. I tried…to help…to make everything else _perfect_ so that she didn't have any reason to be so unhappy. But I know that it wasn't my fault that she couldn't see me…that I couldn't make her happy."

"I'm glad that you understand that, Bella. Addicts can't see things clearly. They're ill and not able to function normally. It wasn't your responsibility to make your mom happy or to prevent her from using drugs. You can't blame yourself for her death."

"I know. It's just that…well…when I think of her now, it's not so much that I feel guilty, but I feel…_relief_ and that makes me feel guilty. It was so much pressure…always so much…I feel…relieved that I don't have to live like that anymore. Doesn't that make me a horrible person?"

"No, Bella. Your reaction is perfectly understandable. No feelings are wrong. Allow yourself to feel relief. Parents are supposed to love, protect, and provide for their children, to nurture them and support them. But your mother didn't. From what you've said in our sessions, you did more parenting than your mother. You are a child. You _should_ feel relieved that you no longer have to fill a role that should never have been yours in the first place."

I nodded, internally wincing that he called me a "child" again, but thinking that his theory sounded right. His words, though reassuring, didn't make the fact that my subconscious continually reminded me of how fucked up I was any easier to take.

We were silent for a few seconds while Edward seemed to be collecting his thoughts, preparing to speak. The air in the room thickened, and I felt the nerves begin to flutter in my stomach, churning uneasily.

"You've been missed at our sessions the past few weeks. Victoria, especially, keeps asking about you. I think she's planning to visit soon…with her new boyfriend, Jacob. He's a friend, isn't he?" he asked, his posture stiff.

"Yeah, I'm glad they're together. They make a good couple," I said, Edward visibly relaxing at my words.

"Um, Bella?" His voice lured my eyes to his face – his lovely, angular face, with its sharp jaw and cheekbones, the masculine cleft in his chin, his strong eyebrows capping his intense, gorgeous green eyes that made me swoon, forget my name, forget to breathe…

"Yes," I answered, breathily, flicking my eyes away from his so that I could think again.

"I'm so glad that you're okay and that you're here and that…well, we get to…can take care of you," he said, stumbling over his words and standing abruptly. "I should go now," he blurted.

"Already? It seems like you just got here," I admitted.

"The time passed by quickly," he replied, smirking. He squatted back down next to me, taking my hand in his. "I'll be around, Bella. I'll come see you…tomorrow…okay?"

I tried to hide my body's reaction to his touch while I relished in the feel of his hand in mine. I never wanted to let go.

"Oh, okay," I said, too enthusiastically, but he didn't seem surprised that I was so anxious to see him again. In fact, he seemed anxious too. Was it wrong of me to feel hopeful? Was I searching to see something that wasn't really there?

Over the course of the following weeks Edward began to make more and more frequent visits to my room. He even popped in at various times throughout the day, checking to see if I needed anything, taking over some of Esme's tasks. He made me lunch a few times when Esme was busy, causing me to blush and stammer idiotically when he brought the tray down to me, filled with all my favorite foods. I couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to change his involvement with me so drastically. But I didn't want to think too deeply about it or else jinx my good luck.

My leg began to hurt a little less as time passed and I was getting more adept at using my crutches. On my first outing, Esme drove me into Port Angeles to see the orthopedic surgeon. I had been twisting my hair nervously around the tips of my fingers the entire drive, worried that he would poke and prod my leg, ultimately determining that I was ready to go back to school. I knew I wasn't ready - neither to face the outside world nor to leave my safe haven at the Cullen's.

Thankfully, my worries were entirely unfounded. The elderly doctor only briefly looked at my leg, perusing my medical chart with a stern, grave look. He tilted his head down, peering up chidingly at me through his bifocals. His voice was high and tinny as he warned that if I pushed myself too hard or someone bumped me in the hall I could, at the very least, drive my progress back, or worse, I could reinjure myself.

Esme took the doctor's words to heart, making all kinds of new rules for me, ensuring that I was more careful as I made my way through the house and didn't attempt to use my crutches more than absolutely necessary. She even insisted that I stay on the bottom level unless Edward was home to carry me up the stairs. I protested weakly, secretly enjoying the added attention, and anxious to feel Edward lift me and hold me.

I almost felt like I was going to lose consciousness the first time Edward appeared at my doorway to take me up the stairs to dinner. "Dinner's ready," he said, approaching. I stood gawkily, wobbling on my good leg. I found it difficult to breathe, as if I'd forgotten how to do it.

We held each other's gaze for several seconds. He wiped his hands on his jeans nervously before thrusting his arms out, silently asking for permission to hold me. I gasped for a deep breath of air and nodded. He closed the distance between us quickly, bending over and dipping one arm under my thighs, and another around my back. I took another deep breath, reaching to wrap my arms around his neck as he scooped me up, my body curling into his chest. He shifted my body carefully until he had me positioned comfortably. I forced my eyes closed as his fingers pressed into the flesh of my thighs, overwhelmed by his physical strength and confidence.

As he scaled the stairs, it didn't matter that my broken leg banged uncomfortably against the other one. I ignored the small stabs of pain, allowing myself to thoroughly give into the sensation of being held in Edward's arms for a second time. He held on tightly, his muscles flexing against my arms and back, his heart beating strongly against my cheek. I was safe. I was home. I promised myself that even if the gesture was insignificant to him, I would never forget the feeling of total and complete rightness of the moment. My center of the universe was here in his arms, and it always would be.

As Edward became a larger part of my daily life, and we started spending more time together outside of our increasingly frequent therapy sessions, I began, in some small ways, to grow more comfortable in Edward's presence. In other ways, I was almost always intimidated - his beauty, his compassion and his intelligence so superior to anyone I'd ever known.

I often wondered if our therapy sessions could really be considered therapy. Our talks began to diverge greatly from the state of my mind to much more diverse topics. It began to seem like we were simply friends, getting to know each other's quirks, pet peeves, the nuances of our personalities. I discovered that Edward hated avocados and his favorite flavor of ice cream was mint chocolate chip. He dabbled in photography in his free time, was in the poetry club in college, and he did crossword puzzles while he ate his breakfast every morning.

After an obligatory few questions about my mom, the accident, my father, or my trust list, our sessions deteriorated, Edward pelting me with questions about my favorite things, my likes and dislikes, my hopes for the future, and seemingly avoiding things that would lead us back to the heavy subjects that we would normally discuss. My insecurities led me to question whether Edward really enjoyed my company or if he was only using our time together as a break from the stresses of his life. He was so wonderful – smart, charming, intelligent, handsome – why would he choose to spend time with an injured, motherless, plain, high school student?

Sometimes we even migrated to Edward's room, listening to music and talking about books, art, medicine…everything. He recited passages of his favorite poetry to me - romantic, passionate poems that oftentimes seemed just beyond my reach. But even if I didn't completely understand the meaning behind all the peculiar metaphors and similes, I imagined that the words were really Edward's – his indirect declaration of his feelings for me.

Pablo Neruda was his favorite poet and he read to me several of his poems, filled with erotic imagery that was worshipful, reverential, and not crass or crude in any way. I'd never heard anything like it before. It was moving and loving and tugged at my heart in all the right ways.

"Neruda wrote all his poems in green ink because it is the color of hope," Edward said, interrupting my thoughts. I'd been looking through one of Edward's books with photographs of gargoyles on castles from all over the world, finding the intricate sculptures both frightening and fascinating.

I was sitting at his desk as he stood by one of the many boxes he'd pushed against the walls, heaping with books, some spilling out, some with open pages, dog-eared and spines worn. How was I to know that the words that he read aloud to me would change my life? How was I to distinguish the meaning of words – weeding out the harmless throw-away kind from the pregnant, heavy, heady ones that reflected something deeper, something real?

I was barely sixteen, in love with a _man_ whose perspective of the world was so much broader than mine. How was Edward to know that everything he told me, everything he shared with me, would make me fall deeper and more irrevocably in love with him?

"Naked you are simple as one of your hands," he read, his eyes drifting up to catch mine, to make sure I was listening. "Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round. You've moon-lines, apple pathways…Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat." He paused again, licking his lips, his fingers inevitably finding his hair, and running along his scalp.

"Isn't the imagery amazing?" he asked. I nodded because I felt inadequate to respond, the words seeming so much larger than me.

"This is my favorite stanza," he said, his eyes alight with passion, fervor for the words.

"Naked you are tiny as one of your nails…Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born…  
And you withdraw to the underground world..."

His words fell off quietly as he lifted his eyes to me. His eyes were dark and piercing, as if he could see through me, under my skin, and into my very soul.

"Bella," he whispered as he took an eager step toward me, his halted breath catching in his throat. There was something leonine and wild about his expression, stalking me like a predator. The atmosphere in the room was charged as if electrified.

My heart felt like it was trying to burst forth from my chest. Every part of my body vibrated, tingling with anticipation, all my senses attuned to Edward. Our eyes locked on one another, bound by an invisible, intangible force.

The current of emotion surging between us was intense and explosive. I couldn't tear my eyes away, and though I yearned with all my heart to move toward him - to physically connect with him - I'd lost control of my body.

Edward's arm had fallen to his side, the book of poems forgotten in his hand. His eyes were still blazing with emotion – lust, desire, passion – I couldn't be sure. His legs seemed to move him forward automatically as he dropped soundlessly to his knees in front of me, his gaze holding me prisoner.

"Edward?" I moaned like a question, ripping my eyes away from his hold.

"I…I…I wish that…things were different…I have so many feelings," he muttered, his hand flinging the book aside and finding mine, entangling our fingers together on the edge of my knee.

"I know," I said in hushed words as he bent forward, placing his head on my lap. I had no idea what I was talking about, but I wanted to comfort him, to share in whatever feelings he was experiencing.

I'd never felt such intimacy with another person. I'd never touched a man's hair before either, but I found myself unable to resist the temptation. I lifted my free hand, hovering it nervously over his head, hesitating before I stretched my fingertips to run lightly across the ends of his hair. I marveled at how much softer his hair was than I'd imagined, the fine strands silky as they flexed under my touch.

I was tired of resisting, of pretending that I didn't feel more than I did. All at once I gave into the impulse of wanting to feel more - of wanting so much of everything – and unexpectedly dipped my fingers lower into his hair to caress his scalp. His body jerked when he first felt my fingers and then immediately relaxed as I ran my fingers tentatively through his hair.

I was overcome with the sensation of touching him in this way. Instead of Edward touching _me, _I was instigating this - I was touching _him. _ I never expected to have my hands in his hair, but I relished the fact that I was comforting and calming him with my gentle strokes.

"Mmm, that feels good, Bella," he mumbled, his hot breath tickling my thighs.

I continued to rub his scalp, my fingers wading through his hair, grasping tenderly on the strands as he moaned appreciatively. I felt a surge of desire well up within me. Edward's warm body against mine, his sensual sighs, all spurring me to a level of boldness that I'd never before possessed.

I closed my eyes, letting go of my reservations, my inhibitions, and moved my hand from Edward's head to his neck, allowing my fingers to cautiously explore the skin just under his hairline. It was surprisingly warm and slick, beaded with a fine layer of perspiration. I hesitated for a moment, listening closely to hear his reaction, but was met only with the sound of our heavy breaths as they escaped our bodies.

Encouraged by his silence, I pushed my fingers more firmly into his neck, kneading his muscles. He groaned at the sensation, and I felt a strong flutter of arousal stir in my belly. Acting purely on impulse, I trailed my hand lower, under his shirt, my fingers greedily caressing his upper back and across his shoulders.

My mouth dropped open as my breaths became deeper, more heated. I lost myself in the moment, giving into the pure ecstasy of the connection I felt with Edward. His name fell from my lips – a sensual moan.

All at once Edward's head snapped up as though awakened from a trance, his face only inches from mine. He stumbled slightly backward so that he fell to a sitting position on his ankles. I snatched my hand quickly away from his skin, my arm jolting outward in a large, clumsy motion as he shot me with a panicked look.

He looked away from me purposefully, the alarm in his expression slowly morphing into anguish.

"Edward?" I questioned under my breath, barely loud enough to hear. "I'm sorry," I squeaked, feeling as though I'd lost something that I'd never recover, as if something inside of me was beginning to wither and die and I was begging him to keep it alive.

"I need you," I admitted, my small, uncertain voice returning.

He looked at me incredulously, opening his mouth and then closing it again as if he couldn't find the right words. I lifted my shaky arm toward him, yearning to comfort him, to wipe the pain off his face. He recoiled, shuffling backward on his knees.

"Edward…please," I whimpered, desperate for him to show me that what had occurred between us wasn't just in my mind, that it really happened, that he felt it too.

"Bella – no – you…we…it's…we can't." Edward sprang up from his spot on the floor. He looked at me liked I'd burned him, like he was frightened of me.

He began to pace the floor in front of me, unrecognizable words spilling from his mouth as if he was thinking aloud, devising some sort of plan. I slowly felt a cold numbness settle over me as if I was becoming invisible, disappearing into the ether.

In one final, pathetic effort to hold onto him, I placed my palms flat on the desk, pushing weakly against the surface until I was standing. I held out my arms with my palms up, beseeching, pleading, reaching for him.

"Edward…" I whispered, gulping back a sob of emotion, and he stopped pacing to stand in front of me. He was frowning, his brow deeply furrowed, his eyes wildly distressed.

He placed his hands on my arms almost as if by instinct, shock widening his eyes as he realized instantly what he'd done – that we were touching again. He snatched his hands away quickly and I inhaled deeply, just barely containing the emotion surging through me and welling in my chest.

"I want…I need…can't we be together…like this?" I asked pitifully between heaving breaths.

"No, we can't…this is wrong…this is bad. You can't develop a dependency on me…on this," he replied, his eyes darting around the room like a caged animal.

"But, I….I love you," I confessed, reaching out for him again. I leaned too far, losing my balance and tottered forward on my one leg. Before I hit the floor, Edward pounced forward and grasped me by the arms. He lifted me upright, but didn't let go, instead slipping his arms around me and holding me close.

"Oh, God, I've let this go too far. I can't believe I let it go this far," he started rambling into my hair, his large hands rubbing my back.

"I thought….I thought that you liked me," I mumbled, confused, panic tightening in my chest, my breaths starting to come out in little staccato puffs.

"I do…I do," he said, and then quieter, to himself, "too much."

"We could just hang out. It could be like a secret?" I asked anxiously, feeling the world tilt on its axis, and my hold on the situation slipping away even farther beyond my reach. As if making my fears a reality, he pulled away from our embrace, but left one arm around my back, continuing to hold me firmly upright.

"This," he gestured between us, "can't happen."

"But, why?" I whined, wishing I didn't sound so pathetic.

"It's inappropriate, Bella!" He was seething with the passion behind his words, his arm tightening its hold on me. I blanched in response, both hurt and embarrassed, dropping my gaze and nuzzling his chest.

"I'm…I'm your doctor! It's amoral…unethical, and I'm fairly certain illegal for us to be together. It's just not right," he said with finality, his arm behind me trembling while the other one gestured violently.

"I've taken advantage of you in the worst sort of way. I can't believe it's come to this." His face was red with emotion, his eyes glassy with tears. He looked tortured and if I wasn't so horrified and so utterly devastated by his decisive words, I would have felt guilty for putting that look on his face.

"I can't do this!" he declared, dropping me roughly on the chair and stomping off toward the door. I was paralyzed, not wanting to believe that this was happening.

At the last moment, he turned around, his hand still on the doorknob. "If it were anyone else this would be so easy. But everything with you is just…torture. Your eyes, your goddamn eyes look at me and they just lacerate my heart," he said through gritted teeth.

"Everything about you calls to me - your innocence, your intelligence, your beauty - but it's wrong. Every cell in my body tells me that this is wrong. I've already made so many mistakes…let my guard down…But I can't do it anymore. I just can't be that kind of man…the kind who gives into his desires with no thought of the consequences. I've got to fix this. I've got to protect you. I've got to protect you from…me. I'll do whatever it takes," he said, his face wet with tears as walked out the door.

It wasn't until the next morning – after a sleepless night of crying - that I fully understood just what Edward had done to protect me. Alice barreled into my room, rousing me from my stupor of depression, bursting with the news. She sat tentatively on the edge of my bed, holding my hand as she told me that Edward had packed a suitcase full of clothes and left in the early morning. He'd given no explanation, but told his parents that he wouldn't be returning.

It took several minutes for the shock to wear off and for Alice's words to sink in. He was gone – gone from the house, gone from Forks, and gone from my life. What was there left to live for?

**Many changes are coming up in the next chapter. I will try and get it out as soon as possible. Please be patient with me, now that the story has progressed to this point it's taking a bit longer for me to pump out the installments. But I'll do my best.**

**I'm terribly excited and humbled that Second Chances has been nominated for an award at the Twilight All Human Fanfiction Awards site, in the category of the fanfiction with the most well-developed characters. If you're interested in voting, go to twilightallhumanawards . webs . com (delete the spaces of course.)**

**Thank you for reading!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you so much to all of you who write me such wonderful reviews! I'm terribly sorry that this chapter took me so long to produce. I just seem to need more time these days…I truly hope that those of you who have been waiting for this transition in the story are happy with how this chapter links the two time periods. Please don't hesitate to leave me a review with your thoughts either way.**

**Thank you always to ms. ambrosia who still continues to amaze me with all the gazillion errors she finds in my writing. I always think, "Oh I'm positive that this time I was so thorough and my grammar is so awesome that she won't have anything to correct." And I'm always wrong. How is it possible? There goes my fantasy of being a book editor…**

**Disclaimer: SM still owns. I unfortunately don't. **

She was late. I'd been sitting there for nearly twenty minutes. My coffee was cold, and every time the bell on the door jingled, I looked up in anticipation.

It had been nearly six months since I'd seen Alice and I truly missed her. It had been her optimism, her unique view on life, her unwavering persistence that had largely helped me survive the last five years of my life.

Even though we hadn't lived in the same area for the four years I'd been in college, she'd visited me at least once a month in the beginning. As time went on and our lives became more complicated, her trips to Seattle had become more sporadic. Our friendship was largely sustained through late night phone calls, emails, and texting.

Despite the distance, I never found any one that even came close to sharing the same kind of bond that we had. She - and all the Cullens - would always have a place in my heart – that couldn't be touched by anyone else.

And here we were finally going to be living in the same city again. It had been unbearably hard at first to live so far away from her. I had grown dependent on her and had to find my own way to survive, to persevere in Seattle by myself.

The experience had been good for me, though I didn't always see it that way. I'd grown up and matured. I had my own identity now – one that wasn't conceived in fear or as a reaction to something else. I wasn't running away from things anymore, but embracing the little treasures in life – the things that I'd never hoped to have for myself – loyal friends, a comfortable apartment, a job that I loved, and a boyfriend who doted on me.

I pulled a notebook and pen out of my red canvas shoulder bag. Since I'd been in college, I'd gotten into the habit of carrying a brown spiral notebook with me everywhere I went. I was never without one. I even brought one with me when I went out to bars, to movies, to dinner, grocery shopping - much to the chagrin of my roommate, Angela. It wasn't uncommon for me to jot a few ideas down at the check writing stand in front of an impatient cashier.

I liked to be able to write when inspiration hit. I hated losing thoughts, no matter how small or incomplete. I had too many brilliant ideas slip from my mind. Often times I simply wrote random thoughts, observations about the people around me, ideas for articles.

And when my mind was blocked, or regressed into the painful memories that continually eased their way to the surface of my mind, I pushed them away with tedious, detailed descriptions of the weather. Sometimes a thought would push its way through – a deep, sultry voice reciting poetry to me, or gentle hands caressing my arms – but I'd diligently bury it in a steady stream of words.

"…_angry storm clouds approach from the east, bringing with them a haze so thick it lowered the spirits,"_ I scribbled.

I had just begun to compose a long-winded narrative of the unusual man who sat at the table across the room, dedicating several sentences alone to the serpentine shape of his waxed mustache, when a pair of purple boots drew up next to my table. I raised my eyes to Alice, whose huge smile was only slightly overshadowed by her fuchsia hair.

"Put that pen down and give me a hug!" she demanded.

"Alice, I missed you!" I said as I jumped up from my seat and flung my arms around her.

"I missed you too," she said as she dropped into the seat across from me. "I see this obsession of yours is only getting worse," she chastised, pointing at my notebook and pen.

"Oh, like you can talk! I bet you have an entire set of colored pencils and a sketch pad in your bag!" I challenged.

"Yeah, well, okay, you might be right about that. Hey, I really need a cup of coffee! Jasper and I just got in last night and I've been unpacking all morning. I found the coffee pot on the bottom of one of the boxes and the carafe was broken so I haven't had any caffeine yet today. I'm desperate. I'll be right back," she said as she shuffled up to the coffee line at the front of the café.

I continued with my description of the mustached man until Alice returned. He'd been eating a bagel, cream cheese dangling from the bottom edge of his mustache. At first glance he appeared to be reading the newspaper while he ate, but as I kept my eyes trained on him, I noticed he was surreptitiously watching a young mother at a couch in the corner of the room. My eyes followed his gaze to the woman, who was discreetly nursing her baby. She had a pink blanket thrown over her shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the unsolicited attention.

I tore my eyes away, abruptly slamming my notebook closed. The motion was loud enough to jolt mustache man away from his trance-like ogling, and he dropped his gaze back to the newspaper in his hands. I scowled in his direction as I opened my notebook to a fresh page, my pen hovering threateningly.

Thankfully, a few minutes later Alice returned with a tall cup of coffee for her and a smaller refill for me. For once, I readily abandoned my notepad, focusing instead on the girl across from me – my closest friend in the world.

"I can't believe I'm finally here! This is going to be so great! I thought I was going to go insane living with my parents any longer. I know that it was part of the plan, but I've wanted to live in the city forever. Thank god Jasper passed all his tests and they accepted him as an apprentice at the fire station here."

"I'm so glad that you're going to be living here. I just can't believe that I can see you all the time now…whenever we want," I said, taking a tentative sip of my hot coffee.

"I am going to miss Olivia though," Alice lamented. I felt my own shoulders drop at her admission. I missed her too. "Did I tell you that she paints like Georgia O'Keefe already? Her flowers are incredible. She's by far my best student," Alice exclaimed with a satisfied smile.

I instantly saw Olivia's charming little face in my mind, her beautiful blond hair so like Rosalie's. But her dimples were all Emmett. She'd been a beacon of light in one of the darkest times of my life.

After Edward left I'd simply shut down – physically and mentally - from the shock of the loss. I'd buried myself in a blanket of depression. When Rosalie and Emmett announced that they were going to have a baby, their words just barely penetrated the listless haze of my despair.

Initially, I had no idea how my life would be affected by their news. Looking back, I was embarrassed by my own sullen reaction to their excitement. I'd been so consumed by my own heartache that I could barely accept that life was continuing to go on around me, that change happens whether you are prepared for it or not.

It was still easy for me to remember how bereft of happiness - of life - I'd felt at that time, as if I'd been thrust back to the paltry existence I'd lived before Renee had died. The time I'd spent with Edward had seemed like a dream that my imagination had created.

In my darkest days, I'd almost convinced myself that those stolen moments with Edward – those happy, perfect moments – had never really happened. He'd never read poetry to me, he'd never comforted me when I had nightmares, and he'd never touched me or declared his feelings to me. It was too painful to believe that it all _had_ been real and that I had lost it.

I had always been an invisible girl, and it made sense to me that something so honest, so pure, so precious had not been mine in the first place. I never believed that I deserved the life I'd been living. Edward's leaving proved with finality that all that I'd longed for wasn't meant for me, and that I'd dared to dream when I shouldn't have.

It seemed like only yesterday that I was curled up in my bed in the Cullen's house, my heart shriveled, my hopes for the future extinguished. I cried myself to sleep every night until my throat was raw. I couldn't eat; it felt like sandpaper when I swallowed. I felt weak – more weak than I'd ever felt in my life – and I had no desire, no will to pull myself out of bed.

It didn't escape anyone's notice that I'd retreated inward. I knew Esme worried about me; it was written on her face.

As soon as she could, Rosalie had cut back on her hours at work, spending her extra free time at the Cullen's. At times, she'd slip down to my room, where she'd delicately and craftily attempt to draw me out of my depression with her infectious enthusiasm. She never probed into the reasons for my sullenness, but I suspected that she knew more about my situation that she'd readily admit to.

I resisted her attempts to cheer me up, but I ultimately failed. I couldn't stand to be rude to Rosalie when she was giving so much of herself to me. My desire to be left alone to wallow was overshadowed by an innate need to be helpful. I didn't have the luxury of being selfish. I owed the Cullens for their generosity. I couldn't stomach them thinking that I didn't appreciate them, that I didn't feel gratitude for all they'd done to help.

While Alice was busy at school and Esme was busy painting, Rosalie easily edged into the role of caring for me and eventually became my main source of company. I couldn't deny that I needed the distraction that she provided, unwittingly allowing myself to look forward to her visits.

She allowed, and even encouraged me, to involve myself in all aspects of her pregnancy. We often ate lunch together, pouring over her pregnancy books, making shopping lists of items to buy for her baby. When Alice got home from school, we'd all three sit on my bed, our hands on Rosalie's stomach, marveling over the expanding little miracle inside.

Though I knew that some women were cranky and uncomfortable during their pregnancies, Rosalie was one of those fortunate women who seemed to grow more radiant every month; she was positively bursting at the seams with happiness. She had always been charming and elegant, but while pregnant she exuded a sense of peace, and a self-assurance that her life was on the right path. Her sense of harmony rubbed off on me, subtly poking holes in the wall I'd built around my heart.

My mind often wandered at random moments and I felt the pangs of depression, my wounded heart still so raw. At these times, I wondered why they made such an effort to include me, to spend time with me. I felt that I had so little to offer, that I was incapable of giving much in return. Rosalie made me want to try though. She was so open, so genuine in every gesture that I couldn't help but want to push all the negativity aside, to do anything to please her.

It wasn't until right before I left for college that Rosalie confessed that the morning Edward left Forks he had made her promise to look after me. Knowing her reasons for investing so much of her time and energy in me was confusing, stirring up emotions that I'd thought I'd buried.

And yet regardless of her reasons, her efforts slowly and steadily worked. Though I had always suspected that all her attention was some form of underhanded therapy, I couldn't resist getting drawn into all her planning. Her hopes for the future became my hopes.

As Rosalie's stomach grew and her body changed, I found that despite my lack of motivation, my broken body steadily healed. My heart though, resisted change – clinging to the pain, stewing in the addictive, obsessive mire of loss.

When the doctor said I was ready to put weight on my damaged leg, Esme urged me out of my slothful, pathetic existence to see the physical therapist in Port Angeles. Even though on the surface I made little attempt to further my recovery, to exert any effort, deep down I felt a growing resolve to get out of bed and to walk again. I found myself unconsciously pushing my body a little harder with each visit.

I didn't want to admit to myself that I held onto a scrap of hope, but I found that no matter how much I thought I wanted things to remain the way they were, I couldn't deny the need to fight – to fight to get my life back, to heal my body and my heart.

It was somehow easier to overlook the scars on my body than it was to let go of the pain inside. I threw all my energy into making my leg work like it should, building up the muscles and walking. I had physical proof in Rosalie's expanding stomach that life was moving forward without me, and I felt the pressure to catch up.

After only a few sessions with the physical therapist, my doctor released me to return to school. I thought that I'd be panicked at the idea, but I actually looked forward to the change with anticipation. I was even surprisingly happy with the idea of returning to Charlie's house. No matter how welcome I'd been in the Cullen's house, and how gracious they'd all been to me, I wasn't really one of them. Even though I wanted to belong, I knew that I didn't. Being there was a constant reminder of what I'd never be able to have.

A waitress noisily bussing tables, collecting abandoned coffee cups and wiping crumbs with a coffee-stained rag came to an abrupt halt in our corner, jarring me back to the present. She caught my eye, questioningly pointing at my half-empty coffee cup.

"I'm not finished yet," I told her. "Thanks," I added pointlessly, as she'd already moved on, ambling away to bother the group of college students at the next table. I turned back to Alice who was eyeing me curiously.

"Everyone misses you, you know? You haven't been back to visit in a long time. Mom wants you to come to our house for Christmas this year. We could drive back together! Olivia would be so happy! She asks about you all the time," she said wistfully.

"I miss her," I replied. "She's starting preschool on Monday, right?" I asked, changing the subject, even though I already knew the answer. I talked to Rosalie on the phone every other day or so – to catch up on Olivia's progress, to hear all the adorable things she'd said or done.

Rosalie had also asked me to spend Christmas with the Cullens, even going so far to invite Charlie. I was beginning to sense that the Cullen women were not going to let me say no this year.

"Yep," she affirmed, reaching out to grab my hand. "I can't believe our little one is growing up so fast." She sat up straighter in her chair, pushing her shoulders back. "But I can't get caught up thinking of her all the time. That won't do. I'm here now and I want to talk about you and me and Jasper and…well…this is hard. How did you do it?"

I thought deeply about her question. How did I move on after I left Forks? It certainly was difficult, but not for the reasons it should have been.

For all intents and purposes, I'd functioned as a nanny for Olivia since she was about six months old. Rosalie had wanted to resume her work and didn't have many options. I needed something to keep my mind out of the darkness.

I also needed to save up money to help with college. Though Charlie and I didn't speak of it, I knew that if I wanted to go, I'd have to contribute financially. So every day as soon as school was over, I drove to Rosalie and Emmett's house to watch Olivia for them.

Taking care of a baby was not always easy and took all of my focus, but I found that I was unexpectedly good at it. Caring for her – changing her diapers, feeding her, bathing her, reading her stories, rubbing her round belly – came naturally to me.

I never could have imagined how much one little person could change my life or the onslaught of emotions that hit me when I first held her in my arms, or the way my heart expanded with joy when she cooed and cracked her first smile. How could I have known that such a sweet, little creature could instantly bind me to her? Olivia made me realize that I still had the ability to feel, to care, and to love deeply in a way that I wasn't sure I ever would again.

It was terribly difficult to tear myself away from her when I finally had my bags packed in the back of my red truck, ready to leave for college at University of Washington. Seattle seemed so far. I had grown as dependent on Olivia as she had on me. Even though I knew that she'd be in good hands with Alice, I still ached for weeks, imagining her little body in my arms, the way she fit so well on my hip and tucked into my side.

"I really don't know how I got through those first few months without her," I admitted to Alice. "I just knew that she was going to be okay."

"Of course, you're right," Alice agreed, never one to dwell.

"I bet they're going to miss you at school though," I suggested.

Alice had taken over some of my nanny duties when I left for school, dividing her time between taking care of Olivia and teaching art at the Forks Recreation Center. With Seth's urging, she also started teaching a few classes at the Quileute Cultural Center in La Push. She'd especially loved working with the children there, who called her "Strawberry Shortcake" because of her bright hair, but were full of energy and eager for her attention.

Before she left the area, she persistently pestered a few of the local tribal artists to continue in her place. She'd told me how reluctant she was to leave until she could get them to promise they'd work with both the adults and the kids, instilling in them the value of art in their community, and helping to revive the tribe's interest in art.

She eventually decided that she'd done all she could. It was difficult for her to leave her various jobs, but I knew she was anxious to finally live in the city and to take advantage of all that it had to offer.

"They'll miss me, but I'm _so_ ready to move on. I'm excited to start a new chapter in my life. I'm excited to be with you, Bella. God, I missed you so much! I just can't wait to see where you live, and to meet your roommates, and your boyfriend," she rambled, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"I'm so glad you're here too," I said, and I was. But I was also a little worried about how she would perceive my life in Seattle. I couldn't hide anything from her; she was extremely observant and she knew me too well. I'd always wondered if she knew that I had harbored such strong, deep-rooted feelings for Edward. If so, she never let on.

"What's the scowl for?" she asked, already sensing my apprehension.

"Nothing," I replied and she raised her eyebrows knowingly, as if she didn't buy my one-word explanation.

"It's just that I'm not sure if you'll approve of things," I confessed.

"What things?" she asked incredulously.

"Well…I live…kind of simply…and I don't really get out much…and Garrett…well, you'll see," I explained lamely.

"Bella, I'm not here to judge you. This is your life. You don't have to live it to please anyone but yourself. Besides, I already know that you don't go out much. Please, how long have we been friends?" she asked snidely.

"A while," I answered sheepishly.

"Whatever it is you're worried about, don't! This is going to be great," she said, squeezing my hand.

I took a big gulp of hot coffee and tried to bring myself to embrace Alice's confidence. I looked down at my tattered notebook and tried to push all my worries to the back of my mind. Yet, somehow having her there in front of me made me feel like two separate parts of my life had forcefully slammed together.

Just seeing Alice made all the mistakes from my past, all the painful memories that I'd been so carefully suppressing for these past years, surface to the forefront of my mind. I'd been living so tentatively, never making any waves, drifting along in a meticulously fabricated shell of a life, too wounded to allow myself to feel too deeply, to embrace things too tightly.

And in just a few short minutes with Alice, I began to feel my façade slipping, my wall crumbling. I found my mind going back to that time, straight back to the moment when Edward threw his tortured gaze at me, his green eyes flashing with anguish as he walked through my bedroom door, dashing all my naïve, childish hopes for a future where he and I could be together forever.

As if she sensed where my thoughts had drifted, she looked uncomfortably away. "Um, Bella, I need to tell you something," she said hesitantly.

"What?" I prompted, my curiosity piqued.

"I'm going to have a dinner party tomorrow night…like a housewarming party. Will you come?"

"Sure, Alice," I replied, relieved that her question wasn't something more difficult to answer.

And I was really looking forward to seeing Jasper again. He'd been a great friend to me over the past few years, always sensing my emotions so clearly and knowing when I needed a compassionate ear to listen to my problems. He was one of the only people, besides Rosalie, who I felt knew who I really was behind the front I presented the rest of the world.

When Jasper returned to Forks to finish his Fire Safety Program and EMT training and certification, he resumed his evening group meetings at the hospital. The meetings were run by Rosalie, who had taken over all of Edward's patients, and conducting all of his therapy sessions in his absence. Jasper eventually wore me down and convinced me to go with him, knowing that I had a lot to issues to work through. He may have not known the extent of my suffering, but even so, he knew enough to know how damaged I was – I'd been neglected, I'd lost my mom to a horrible death, I'd been uprooted to a new town and had been badly injured in a motorcycle accident.

I never talked about my relationship with Edward with anyone. At the sessions, I focused my mind entirely on all my other worries, almost as if I'd never met Edward and he hadn't turned my already messed-up life upside down. After the morning he left, no one ever spoke of him to me which helped to perpetuate my delusion.

Of course, I wondered if they all suspected that something had happened between us. For a while, I worried that they might all resent me for driving him away. And yet, they all treated me with such kindness that I felt guilty for even entertaining the thought.

Occasionally, I caught his name being uttered in another room, instantly reminding me that he did exist, that he was real. I lurched in pain each time I heard his name, but it didn't stop me from greedily listening for news of him, for any small bit of information about where he was and what he was doing.

I'd pieced a few bits of information about him together over the years so that I had a vague idea of his whereabouts. I'd heard Esme and Carlisle talking one night about a colleague of Carlisle's who'd pulled some strings to find a hospital in San Francisco where Edward could complete his residency. No matter how unhappy I was that he felt he had to leave, I was relieved to hear that he was alright and settled in a new place.

Months later, I was at Rosalie and Emmett's house, changing a diaper, when I heard Emmett and Rosalie arguing through the wall. Initially, I could only discern that Rosalie was angry about something that Edward had done. Emmett seemed to be defending Edward's decision to take a break from medicine.

I strained to hear their mumbled voices, quickly taping Olivia's diaper in place, shrugging her up to my shoulder to place a kiss on her round cheek. "Be quiet, sweetie," I whispered in her ear as I shuffled silently to the hall to eavesdrop.

"I can't believe him! He's acting like an arrogant, entitled brat! And those people he's spending time with…they're horrible, Em…so rich they never even have to work. He could be out there helping people, but instead he's what? Sailing? Building boats? I just can't believe it! The Edward I know would never do that!"

I could hear Emmett's soft words trying to calm Rosalie down. Olivia gurgled in my ear, startling me, and I slithered down the hall to the living room to think about what I'd learned. I remembered balancing Olivia on my knee, looking into her innocent, smiling face as I bounced her up and down, while my a storm of unanswered questions raged in my mind.

For years now, I'd functioned with an iron strong control over my emotions. It had been such a long time since I'd allowed myself to think of Edward, to think back to that time of my life. As I'd feared, Alice innocently knocked down all my defenses, forcing me to feel more deeply than I'd felt in years. Everything came back to me in one huge gushing wave, flooding my mind with memories until I was lost in them, barely hearing Alice's words.

As I'd learned to do over the past few years, I swallowed the pain. Forcing myself to focus on the reality in front of me and not the dreams of my past, my mind finally calmed enough to latch on to the tail end of Alice's sentence, "…I'm so glad that you're going to come tomorrow night! You should bring your boyfriend so we can all meet him," she said enthusiastically, genuinely excited at the prospect.

"Oh, yeah, I guess so," I replied uneasily. I wasn't sure I was ready for Alice and Jasper to meet Garrett. "Who else is going to be there?" I asked, instantly back on edge.

"Well just us, me and Jasper and…Edward and his girlfriend," she said plainly.

I felt a rush of heat flood my body, pushing the air out my lungs. My mouth fell open and I sputtered, trying to pull some oxygen to my brain. _Edward…he's here. How can he be here_?

"Bella, are you okay?" Alice asked, concern marring her features.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay," I stammered, still reeling from her news. _I was going to see Edward. He was going to see me. We were going to see each other again after all this time._

So much time had passed. I had changed. I wasn't the same naïve girl that I was five years before. I'd graduated from high school, left town, lived on my own, and finished college since I'd seen him. I'd healed from my old wounds and I'd come to know myself better. It had taken me years, but I'd finally come to understand why he felt like he had to leave, why it was the right thing to do. I'd forgiven him. I'd moved on. I'd had to.

I imagined that he was different too. He was in Seattle and he had a girlfriend. Why didn't I know this? Really, I didn't know anything about him anymore. This realization saddened me. How was I to reconcile the Edward from my memories with the man he was now?

We'd lost our chance to be together, to explore whatever it was that had ignited between us. Maybe the spark that we had was gone forever. Maybe it never had been there. Maybe I'd fantasized it all and Edward wasn't the man I'd remembered him to be. Or maybe…perhaps he still was.

My blood boiled at the thought. And yet, life didn't hand out second chances very often.

Alice continued to talk, stirring me from my reverie of times past, time lost. I was in total shock, my heart beating fast and hard in my chest. It was as if my mind couldn't accept that I was going to see Edward again.

"Will you come over a little earlier in the day? You can help me unpack…rearrange things. And…well," she hesitated. "There's something else I want to talk to you about."

"What? What is it?" I asked, wondering if it had something to do with Edward.

"It can wait until tomorrow," she said with finality, her smile curving into a smirk. "I'll call you in the morning with the address and everything."

She stood, stretching like a lazy cat before she bent and scooped up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. "I've got to run. There's still so much unpacking to do and I'm a little worried that I left Jasper to do it on his own. I'll bet he mounted the TV and unpacked the Playstation and that's it," she chuckled.

I followed her lead and stood to say goodbye, tucking my notebook in my bag and slurping one last sip of coffee. I glanced up to catch Alice eyeing me knowingly.

"What?" I questioned, wondering if she could sense that my thoughts were in turmoil.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just missed you, and I guess you just seem…well, different," she said uncertainly, tilting her head to the side. "I forgot how pretty you are, Bella, but it's not _just_ that. You seem more mature, I guess."

"Alice, I'm not different at all. I'm just the same old Bella."

"No, no you're not. You've changed," she said as she started to walk off. She turned when she was at the edge of the plaza, yelling over her shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that Edward will think so too."

**Thank you so much for reading! I know that some of you will be mad at me that Edward wasn't in this chapter, but I promise that next chapter we will meet him again and find out just what he's been up to. **


	25. Chapter 25

**I hope that you all are enjoying our glimpse into adult Bella's life. I absolutely love hearing your comments! They motivate me more than you can imagine.**

**Ms. Ambrosia, as always, made this chapter so much better! **

**Disclaimer: SM owns.**

I'd recently discovered that I loved taking baths. I could soak in the tub for hours, luxuriating in lavender scented bath salts, languishing until my skin turned pruney and the scalding water cooled to an uncomfortable temperature.

I got all of my best ideas for stories when I was in the bath. In fact, it seemed like the only place where I could fully relax, where all the tension in my muscles faded away and I allowed my mind to drift.

The deep claw-footed tub in the apartment I shared with my friend, Angela, and her girlfriend, Tanya, was the primary reason we took the apartment in the first place. Tanya claimed that it was a perfect tub for two, whining and begging until we signed the lease.

Though the rest of the apartment, which comprised the bottom half of an old Victorian house in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle, was in desperate need of updating, we agreed to take the dump. Even though ours was by far the most dilapidated house on the street, badly remodeled through the years, we made it our own. After thoroughly cleaning and painting all the rooms, we filled it up with hand-me-downs and thrift shop furniture and made it a comfortable home that we all loved.

Angela and Tanya took the master bedroom that had its own little fireplace and an antique chandelier, while I had the small guest bedroom that was just big enough for my twin bed and a very small desk. There wasn't even a closet in my sparse, little room, so I hung my clothes from a closet pole suspended from the ceiling, with my folded clothes in a short, wide dresser underneath.

It wasn't much, but it was enough for me. And luckily, the sole bathroom, which was undoubtedly the nicest room in the house, was right across the hall from my room and I liked to think of it as an extension of my space.

As I was feeling particularly anxious about getting ready for the dinner party at Alice and Jasper's new home, I needed the calm of a steamy bath more than ever. I deposited my notebook on the bed, allowing my last hollow sentence to dangle unfinished on the lined page. My fingers plucked the clip from my hair, freeing the strangled strands so they fell on my shoulders.

I skipped across the hallway to my favorite place and eagerly closed the door to the rest of the world behind me. With a sense of satisfaction, I twisted the old-fashioned brass lock, before shedding my clothes into a messy pile on the floor. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, I couldn't stop my mind from fixating on the fact that I was going to be seeing Edward Cullen in a few short hours. I hoped that the bath would ease my nerves. If I was going to be able to function at all, I would need all the help I could get.

I turned the water on to the hottest setting and plugged the drain. I scooped a heaping amount of bath salts into the bubbling stream before easing myself down into the fragrant water. I couldn't help the heavy sigh that escaped my mouth as I settled into the sensation, allowing the heat to soothe my frazzled nerves.

My mind always worked in the strangest of ways. As I closed my eyes, inhaling the billowy steam, I found myself slipping into the familiar trance-like state where my dreams and memories blended, where ideas blossomed, flitting through my brain quickly and erratically. At times like this I often remembered my mom – odd things like how she wore her hair or the coral nail polish that she liked to wear on her toes.

I was so incredibly agitated about the impending reunion with Edward that the calming effect of the bath was seriously diminished. Instead of daydreaming about my mother, I was stuck back in time five years ago when one part of my life ended and another began.

My body seemed to be battling my mind. Though my limbs felt slack and heavy, my thoughts were restless, incomplete and jarring. I found myself repeatedly taking deep breaths, but never really feeling like I could suck enough oxygen into my lungs.

I dipped my head under the water, reveling in the silence…the stillness. I resurfaced just in time to hear a knocking on the door.

"Bella! Are you taking another bath?" Angela asked. "Hurry up and get out! If you want us to come with you, you need to let us get ready too!"

"Okay, just let me shave first," I demanded, grabbing my razor off of the shelf. I quickly shaved and washed my hair, emerging in the hallway fifteen minutes later with towel wrapped snuggly around my body.

"Bathroom's free!" I yelled down the hall as I bolted across the drafty hallway into my room.

I dried my body off, wrapping my damp towel around my head as I sifted through my clothes, wishing that the perfect outfit would jump off the hanger into my hands. I had put off trying to figure out what I was going to wear, knowing that none of my jeans and t-shirts were going to make the kind of impression that I was going for.

I was still standing naked in front of my clothing rack when Tanya barged into my room. Though I was used to her abject thoughtlessness in regards to my privacy, I still scrambled to cover myself. I dropped the towel from my head, whipping it around my body.

"Tanya! Would you please knock before you barge in here? I know you have no respect for personal boundaries, but _I _do," I explained to her, as if we hadn't had this same argument countless times before.

"Oh Bella," she sighed. "You know how I feel about this," she said as she waved her hand back and forth between us. "We're both women. And this hang-up you have about nudity, it's just…so bourgeois, so ordinary. And you, you're _so_ not ordinary. You're beautiful and you should be comfortable to be yourself and to share that beauty with us. It's just flesh," she explained as she lifted her shirt up to show me the flat plane of her stomach. "It's just an outer shell," she said, slapping her skin.

"Did you have a reason for being here?" I snapped, effectively halting her common rant advocating nudity.

"Yes," she exclaimed with a huff, clearly affronted to be stopped mid-thought. "Did you want to borrow something to wear?" she asked, switching topics easily.

"Oh please!" I replied desperately. Tanya came from a wealthy family and had the nicest clothes out of the three of us. She was extremely generous with her possessions and we all three often dressed from her closet. Though her things were more revealing than I typically wore, I occasionally liked wearing sexier clothing that made me feel feminine and powerful.

Angela was definitely the most conservative dresser out of the three of us. And she didn't go to any lengths to enhance her beauty. She never wore make-up and almost always wore jeans and dark long-sleeved shirts. Her body was thin and angular, as were the features of her face. She was tall - nearly five foot ten - and had large dark eyes, red full lips, and straight, glossy black hair that she wore twisted in one long braid down her back.

Tanya, on the other hand, was curvy and vivacious. She had large breasts and hips and long, curly strawberry-blond hair that swirled around her head like a fiery wreath. Her skin was pale, but rose-tinted, with a smattering of tiny freckles that mirrored the flecks of gold in her pale green eyes. She loved to wear skin-tight, short dresses, flaunting her womanly figure with complimentary high heels in all the colors of the rainbow.

When Angela and Tanya were together, no one could keep their eyes off of them. They were uniquely beautiful, but as a couple they were stunning. The fact that they held hands whenever they were together, and had no problem showing their affection for one another in public, drew quite a lot of attention. And yet, they were usually oblivious, only focused on one another.

Angela had been my assigned roommate in the dorms my freshman year of college. I'd been shell-shocked and shy at first and Angela was slow to warm up to me. It took several painful weeks of stilted conversations and awkward fumbling around each other before we eventually realized we had a lot of common interests.

When we finally opened up to one another, we instantly bonded over our shared love of reading and art. Her creativity and refusal to conform to what was expected of her instantly reminded me of Alice, making me feel just a little bit closer to her than I would have otherwise. Though Angela had initially been a literature major like me, after only two semesters she shifted her focus to art, eventually ending up with a BFA in Photography.

After several months of living together and sharing small bits of ourselves with one another, Angela finally felt comfortable enough with me to confess that she was gay. She'd been hesitant to open herself to me before she was certain if I would be accepting of her lifestyle. When she decided to trust me with her story, we spent several long nights talking and getting to know one another in the safety of the darkness of our little rectangular room.

She'd explained that she'd grown up in a religious, very restrictive household in a very small, narrow-minded Midwestern town where she'd never felt she could be herself. She'd been stifled there, frightened to admit to either her friends or her parents what she knew deep down inside was her true self.

Though it was extremely difficult to reveal all the secrets I kept so tightly bound away, I felt compelled to share them with Angela. She'd been vulnerable with me, sharing her worst fears, so in the darkness, while snuggled in our beds, I told her my deepest fears, revealing to her the scars on both my body and my heart.

Angela knew all about my mother and the horrible way in which she had lived and the horrible way in which she died. I told her about Charlie and the Cullens and Alice and Jasper and about the motorcycle accident that caused the raised scar she'd noticed along the inside of my calf.

She was the only other person who knew the true depth of my obsession with Edward. I told her everything I could remember about him – his intense green stare, his beautiful fingers, the sharp line of his jaw. I tried to explain how I'd felt when I was around him, how his compassionate nature drew me to him, how his passion had ignited all the nerves in my body.

I'd had my eyes closed, my arms crossed tightly over my chest as I described to her what happened in those last pivotal weeks we had spent together - the way in which he'd touched me that made my breath stop and my heart beat accelerate like it never had before. I'd told her about beautiful poetry he'd recited – the Pablo Neruda poem that I'd reread countless times since that day – in his sultry, dulcet voice.

I recalled the words he'd spoken with perfect clarity. Though I'd tried to deny it for years, I confessed to Angela that I was still haunted by the tortured way he'd looked before he left, and the way my heart still felt shattered in a million tiny pieces that only he could put back together.

Even when Angela was knocked off her feet by Tanya - they'd literally collided in the hallway outside the apartment we shared our sophomore year - we'd remained close friends, but lived separately. I thought I'd try living with a group of girls off campus, all literature majors, which was fun for a brief time, but I eventually found a few of the girls unbearably difficult to live with.

One of the girls, Kate, was pretentious and arrogant, believing herself to be of far greater intelligence than the rest of us. She never failed to flaunt her perfect grades or to paraphrase her professors' praise. And she never lowered herself to do her part of the cleaning. Another roommate thought she had the answer to everyone's problems, always offering unsolicited advice and relentlessly peppering the household with sickeningly redundant aphorisms.

It was always, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease." Or, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." My least favorite saying was clearly the one she loved best. She said it every time she found me sitting in my room on a Friday night with my spiral notebook open and a pen clutched in my inky fingers instead of going out. She said it every time she'd heard that I'd again turned down another too-eager, too intoxicated guy that'd been stalking me at one of our parties. "Bella, you know what they say?" she'd prompt. "It's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."

I found myself trying to avoid her and her weird, disingenuous brand of denigrating wisdom, spending all my time in cafes or in the library. Though I sometimes appreciated the novelty of living in house with other girls, I mostly found it to be suffocating. The other girls' problems seemed so trivial, and I had a difficult time relating to the simplicity of their lives, their straightforward acceptance of the raucous social world of college.

Angela, in turn, not interested in even attempting to try living with a group of loud, horny, affected heterosexual girls, moved into a single room on campus for a couple of years. She loved having the space to herself, enjoying the privacy while she and Tanya explored their relationship.

When I wasn't consuming mass amounts of coffee at one of the many cafes surrounding the outskirts of campus, I continued to spend most of my free time with Angela and eventually with Tanya too, who had easily bulldozed her way into both our hearts. She was a great friend to me, constantly pulling me out of my shell, forcing me to go out and meet people, rather than hiding myself away behind the pages of a book.

She didn't have a jealous bone in her body or an ounce of doubt about her lifestyle choice. She was everything that Angela wasn't – confident, sexy, opinionated, loud, sometimes brash, and bursting with enthusiasm for life. She was incredibly quick-witted and intelligent, never backing down from an argument.

Tanya's parents, rather open-minded and indulgent, didn't put any pressure on her to either get a job or to graduate, willingly supporting her and her unconventional lifestyle. Having grown up in the metropolis of Los Angeles in an opulent mansion in the hills, Tanya's choice of schools was the really the only thing her parent's couldn't understand. She could have easily gone to an Ivy League school or even a university in Europe, but instead chose to follow a boyfriend from high school to Seattle.

The relationship ended, but Tanya stayed, already immersed in her new life and enticed by the small-town feel of the Seattle scene, and the refreshing niceness of the people. Though she grew up in a more tolerant environment than Angela, she never quite fit in with the superficial and shallowness of the privileged kids she went to high school with.

She was never skinny enough or compliant enough to fit in socially with her peers. The only thing that allowed her any autonomy in school was her wealth and the fact that her father was a well-known and highly-respected cinematographer.

It wasn't until Tanya and her boyfriend moved to Seattle that she realized he had been cheating on her since high school. His parents weren't as wealthy as hers and he'd been using Tanya for her money, manipulating her so that she paid for most of their expenses - their apartment, most of their food, movies, dates, clothes, shoes, etc.

She was surprised that she wasn't crushed when she found him having sex with another girl on the couch in their apartment. But she barely felt anything at all, realizing that her feelings for him didn't run very deep. Instead she felt relieved, quickly kicking him to the curb and severing her ties with him.

Just like every other aspect of her life, she'd approached dating with an enthusiastic open-mind, exploring her options and accepting a date from a gay women that was also in her graduate program. Though they found that they weren't compatible, the experience allowed Tanya to realize that she had no preference for either men or women and she was awakened to a world of new possibilities. Her sexuality was like everything else in her life; she simply had no boundaries, no limits.

She loved effortlessly, showering her feelings generously on her friends. Angela never had a choice – Tanya was swept up in her, so enamored that Angela was forced to simply give in and embrace their relationship. Tanya reined in her enthusiasm and redirected it all into nurturing their relationship. Her love for Angela tempered her in all the right ways; the two women just seemed to fit, their personalities inextricably complimenting one another.

Though Tanya tried to share her wealth with Angela, paying for everything at first, buying expensive gifts, taking her out to expensive restaurants, Angela put a stop to it. She was the least materialistic person I'd ever met, and never even considered taking advantage of Tanya's financial situation. Though Tanya continued to buy endless amounts of clothing and shoes for herself, Angela insisted that everything else would be equal.

When Angela and I graduated from college, we all three decided to split the cost and find a place to live together. When we were scouting out places to live, even though Tanya could have easily bought her own house, we agreed to find a place that we could all afford, where we would split the rent equally.

Unlike the Angela and me, Tanya was still in school, finishing up her Ph.D. in Philosophy. She never appeared in a hurry to graduate or to finish her dissertation. Her professors didn't seem in a hurry to be rid of her either. They all seemed to love her, finding her boundless energy and zest for knowledge undeniably irresistible.

It wasn't always easy living with Angela and Tanya. They were a constant reminder of everything I didn't have in my life. Every time they cuddled on the couch or embraced before heading out the door in the morning my heart would ache a little. It was the same feeling I used to get when Alice and Jasper held each other like they could never get close enough – a little tug on my heart, a small stab of emptiness.

And yet, I never had two such fierce friends, who were so eager to support me and pull me out of my funk when I got too low. They were both encouraging - bordering on pushy – in their own way, always knowing when I needed either a little space or some gentle guidance.

I was relieved that they were coming to the dinner party with me, even though I knew they'd be constantly badgering me about Garrett. Though he was very good looking, they didn't like him much. They had high expectations, and were always looking for the perfect man for me, never hesitating to criticize all of my relationships. I couldn't help but think that with two lesbians looking out for me, no man would ever measure up.

Granted, I wasn't very selective about who I went out with, but I accepted dates when I felt pressured to go out. This was how I'd ended up dating Garrett. We had both interned at the Seattle Times and were the only two out of a handful of hopefuls who were offered permanent positions as journalists when the internship was over.

Garrett was incredibly popular with all the women in the office and I never could quite understand why he was so focused on me when he could have had his choice of women. Yet, he'd asked me out on a regular basis for several months, taking my consistent rejection good-naturedly, before I finally relented.

I'm not sure why I was initially so against dating him. Perhaps he was a little too good-looking, tall and subtly muscular with wavy blond hair and dimples. He had beautiful, white teeth and dark blue eyes that crinkled when he laughed, which was often. He was effortlessly charming, but sometimes he was just too smooth, too practiced. I felt awkward and gawky when I was with him, as if there was no way I could polish up enough to match his brilliant sheen.

I could tell that Tanya and Angela didn't approve of him, but they didn't overtly voice their opinion. Essentially, it was their fault that I was dating at all; their prodding of me to go out and experiment that led me to finally accept Garrett's offer.

We'd been seeing each other for a little over three months. He seemed content with the way things were progressing, despite my lack of attachment to him. I couldn't help myself from continually wondering why he wanted to be with me, and if he even cared that I wasn't engaged, or that I couldn't give him more of myself.

But even though we'd been on at least one date every weekend, he never seemed to push for more than I was willing to give him. I was so grateful that he had very few physical expectations for our relationship that I didn't question the situation as often or as deeply as I probably should have. But as it stood, our relationship was convenient and easy and I didn't have to put too much effort into it.

Garrett arrived at our house a half hour late, his bright yellow Hummer coming to a squealing stop in our driveway. Despite his apologies, Tanya bitched at him for making us wait, muttering curses at him under her breath as Angela yanked her into the back seat with her, stopping her tirade with a heated kiss. Angela loved making out with Tanya in front of Garrett. It made him noticeably uncomfortable and she secretly enjoyed watching him squirm.

He never openly criticized my friends, but I sensed that he wasn't as tolerant as he'd tried to appear. I was fairly certain he knew that if he were to say any disparaging comments about them, it would be the end of our relationship.

Unfortunately, even the weird tension in the car couldn't keep my mind from fixing on the one thing that had preoccupied my mind since I'd woken up in the morning – Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. In fact, I'd been thinking of him, obsessing about him, fantasizing since I'd seen Alice the day before. I struggled to get any sleep, my nerves keeping me in a jumbled state of agitation all night.

It hardly mattered at all that Garrett was with me, our non-relationship wasn't important. Honestly, it was the last thing on my mind. I didn't even spare a moment's thought to feel guilty for my lack of feelings. I wouldn't have brought him along if Alice hadn't asked me to. I'd planned on explaining all of this to Alice at a later time.

"Hey Babe," Garrett said, smirking devilishly as he reached over for my hand. "You look sexy as hell in that dress," he said as his eyes travelled over my body.

I'd picked out one of Tanya's older dresses to wear, a diaphanous, blue wrap-dress made of out a silky fabric that clung to my body, enhancing my curves. I loved the way that the short skirt swayed around my thighs when I moved, making me feel flirty and womanly. I paired it with my pair of black suede Manolo heels that had been a birthday gift from Tanya.

"Hey, where's your head?" Garrett asked. "Were you listening to anything I said?"

"Um, sorry," I said. "What'd you say?"

"I was just pointing out that you seem tense. Are you sure you want to go out? We could go to the pub instead," he suggested.

Garrett almost always wanted to go to his favorite pub, where several of his guy friends from college tended to hang out. He rarely offered to let me decide where we should spend our time together, always assuming that I'd just acquiesce. I wasn't sure why I always gave in, why I allowed him to have so much control. In the end, I just didn't care enough. One setting with Garrett was just as good as another.

"They're expecting us," I said, affronted, unable to conceal my irritation with him. "I'm just worried that we're late," I explained, twisting the knife of guilt a little. I was more frustrated with him than I'd initially realized.

If I stopped to examine our relationship closely, I'd have to acknowledge that Garrett did thoughtless things all the time – forgetting to do a small favor I'd asked of him, not calling when he said he would or stopping by the house before calling first. All these careless actions were beginning to dam up in my mind.

And yet, the fact that Garrett was entirely self-absorbed hadn't always bothered me. These middling things weren't typically enough for me to make a big stink about, but Garrett's inability to read my moods or to exert any effort to see things from my perspective was definitely starting to annoy me.

"Oh come on, Bella. It's customary to be fashionably late," Garrett retorted, oblivious to my discomfort. He reached across the expanse of the wide car, putting his hand on my knee. I fought against the instinct to flinch from his touch.

"Bella, who is that?" Tanya asked, leaning forward to speak quietly in my ear.

"That's Jasper," I said, my face breaking out into a smile as I peered through the windshield. Jasper was pulling a case of beer out of the back of a newer looking Volkswagen SUV in the driveway of a boxy bungalow, his inked biceps bulging as he heaved the box against his chest.

"I bet he's the kind of guy who knows how to make a woman happy!" she whispered urgently, her hot breath tickling my ear.

"Hey!" Angela pouted, having overheard.

"I mean if you're into that kind of thing," Tanya said, kissing Angela on the cheek.

"You know he's just a friend," I whispered back as Garrett parked against the curb in front of the small house. I quickly unbuckled and jumped out of the car, the sight of my old friend instantly quelling my nerves.

"Jasper!" I yelled, running forward.

"Bella!" he replied, laughing at my enthusiastic display.

He put the beer on the ground and pulled me in for the kind of hug that only he could give. I tucked my head into his firm chest as his strong arms enfolded me. There was just something about Jasper – his warmth, his touch, some magical energy - that made me forget everything else.

All at once, while in his arms, I knew everything was right – at least for the moment. And when he pulled back to look deep into my eyes, I knew that he could see all the parts of my life that I'd been too ashamed to admit to myself written on my face. Sometimes I felt like he had the ability to see beneath my skin where the real me – all raw emotions and tenacious insecurities - was still hiding, waiting to be strong enough to emerge.

"It's good to see you," he said genuinely as he wrapped his arm around my waist. He looked over my shoulder to see the three people I'd brought with me, his eyes sparkling, but not yet acknowledging them. His lips dipped to my ear. "Are you ready for this?" he whispered, his eyes shooting back to mine, questioning, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

"Yes…yes. I'm ready, Jasper," I said in small voice, but I meant what I said. I was ready. I needed to be ready.

"Well okay," he said, trusting my answer. He spun me around so that I was facing Angela, Tanya and Garrett. And even though his eyes appraised Garrett with scrutiny, he didn't remove his arm from my waist.

"I'm Jasper," he said, holding his hand out to Angela, not waiting for introductions.

"I'm Angela and this is my girlfriend, Tanya," Angela stated plainly with a sure smile, shaking Jasper's hand firmly and challenging him to react to her statement.

"I've heard a lot about you both," he said. "And I know how much you mean to Bella. And well…we're so glad that she has you guys in her life." He spoke so earnestly that Tanya bounded forward and hugged him, crushing his and Angela's hand between them.

Garrett clearing his voice from behind us sufficiently ended the sweet moment and we all pivoted to look at him. "Uh hmm," he grunted.

"Hi," Jasper said, not extending his hand.

I stepped forward, somewhat reluctantly wriggling myself out of Jasper's arms so that I was standing in my appropriate spot next to Garrett. I could feel the anger coming from him, but I didn't care about it as much as I knew that I should. Nevertheless, I didn't want him to be uncomfortable or unhappy. I'd invited him here and he was my responsibility.

"Garrett, this is my friend, Jasper," I explained to him, emphasizing the "friend" part of the statement.

Before I could finish the introduction, Garrett took a bold step forward, thrusting his hand out at Jasper. "I'm Bella's boyfriend," he declared, with more passion than I'd ever heard him muster. He linked his arm with mine possessively, almost roughly pulling me tightly into his side.

Whether I wanted it or not, this position was how we followed Jasper through the front door and into the main foyer of the picturesque little house. Even though I didn't want to be attached to Garrett this way, I drew physical support from his solid body next to mine. I almost felt as though my legs might give away beneath me if he weren't holding onto me so securely.

I allowed him to shift me around as if I were an appendage of his. I felt like a ventriloquist's dummy, for the moment unable to function on my own. My mind was thoroughly panicked as I tried to survey my surroundings, only briefly registering that Angela and Tanya were standing next to me, _oohing_ and _ahhing_ the art on the walls in the hallway.

Jasper led us forward down the hall near the entrance to the cozy living room and my feet somehow shuffled along after him, Garrett's firm touch guiding me. Before I could peer around the corner into the room, Alice bounded out of the kitchen and nearly tackled me.

"Bella!" she squealed, tearing me out of Garrett's hold and pulling me into her arms. She hugged me fiercely and I felt my apprehension melt a little at her warm welcome. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"Your house is so adorable, Alice," Angela said as Alice released me from her hug.

"Thank you, Angela. It's great to finally meet you…and you too, Tanya. I've truly heard so much about you, I feel like I already know you!" Alice said.

Though I watched my friends meet each other with a sense of satisfaction, I stood rigid with unease. I felt eyes on me. I sensed _him_, his hot energy surging all around me, alighting all my nerves. My hands trembled at my sides; I clenched them into fists to hide my agitation. I tried to focus on Alice, on the small laugh lines around her eyes that I knew so well, the shrewd glint in her eyes as they landed on Garrett.

I tilted my head slightly toward him, noticing with some distress that Garrett was shifting from foot to foot as he battled to get a hold on his typically smooth composure. His upper lip was coated with a thin sheen of perspiration and a lock of his fair hair had uncharacteristically dropped across his forehead. I wondered if he too felt eyes on his back, if the hair on his neck was standing on end, if his hands were clammy as mine.

"Hi," Alice said to him as Jasper sidled up next to her. I took a deep breath, exhaling heavily, garnering a concerned look from Angela.

I smiled weakly at her as Garrett shook Alice's hand, but she was already looking over my shoulder and into the living room. I wanted to follow her gaze, but I was terrified. How was I going to make it through the night when I couldn't even turn my head?

I could hear the snap and crackle of burning logs in the fireplace, a gust of heat billowing into the air around us. I desperately wanted to spin around and peek, and yet I was frozen, unwilling to revisit all the pain and loss from my past all wrapped up in those haunting, penetrating green eyes.

And then I heard footsteps and I knew that it was too late to run, too late to hide. I felt Garrett tug on my hand, and I glanced at him, grimacing. He turned to look at who was approaching and I knew that I couldn't avoid it any longer. I pivoted, dropping my eyes to the floor, barely registering that Garrett was pulling me closer to his side, lacing his fingers with mine.

I lifted my gaze and _he_ was there right in front of me, his eyes brimming with emotion. He overtly scanned every inch of my body as if checking to see that I was still in one piece. I had the errant thought that the last time he'd seen me I'd still been in my cast, my wounds fresh and far from healed.

His expression was so intense that I literally tore my eyes away as if looking into the sun. My mouth opened, but I couldn't speak. I felt Tanya's breasts against my back, nudging me, prompting me to speak.

"Edward," I pushed out of my lips breathlessly.

"Who's this?" someone said in a flat, nasally voice and I all at once noticed the pale, tall girl standing at Edward's elbow.

Heat rushed through my chest, flooding my face and I snapped my eyes back to the floor. I took a deep breath, composing myself. Angela's hand was on my back, encouraging me, bolstering me, giving me the courage to draw my gaze upward. I held my hand out as steadily as I could, plastering a forced smile on my face.

"Hi, I'm Bella," I said.

"Bella," Edward repeated faintly as if meeting me for the first time. I caressed his lips with my eyes before lifting them, daring to catch his gaze.

Our eyes locked and it felt just the same as it had when I'd first seen him all those years ago – as if an eternity passed in that one moment, as if we were entirely alone, as if we could reach into each other's souls. I had the same exact sensation that I'd had then – that everything I'd experienced up until the moment I'd laid eyes on him had been in preparation for this day, that my destiny stood before me and that my life as I knew it would change irrevocably.

Everyone was silent. How much time had passed? I wondered if they all knew what had happened, if they'd seen the conversation we'd had with just our eyes. Could they feel what I was feeling – the yearning in my heart, the strength and heat of the inexplicable connection that stretched out between us, drawing us ever closer together? Or was I alone suffering from some grand delusion that would end up finally crushing me?

Either way, as I came to my senses, I reluctantly realized the presence of the others in the room. Sweaty fingers squeezed mine in their unwanted grasp. I blinked, taking in the roomful of witnesses to this reunion, and I knew without a doubt, that it was going to be a long, interesting night.

**Thank you for reading! Do I have you anxious for the next chapter?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Welcome back to Second Chances everyone! I literally worked on this chapter a little bit everyday, bit by bit, until I got it right. This method of writing is unusual for me, but that is just how this part of the story evolved. **

**As always, I apologize for making you wait! I'm doing my best! I hope it's still worth it! It is for me! Oh, and to make it up to you, this chapter is especially long.**

**For some insipid reason, I've been itching with the urge to organize my life and have spent the better part of the last two days shredding, paper-clipping, labeling and filing everything I can get my hands on. I was incredibly relieved to see ms. ambrosia's name in my inbox this afternoon with the latest chapter all polished up pretty and ready to be posted.**

**You can thank today's posting on my intense need for a break from all my OCD tendencies. Ugh, and I'm not even close to finishing. Why did I start such an overwhelming project? My shredder is smoking anyway. I think I'll go start the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer still owns. She must have done something really good in her past life!**

I couldn't look at Edward. I was finally in his presence again, standing right in front of him, and I was overcome with fear. I just couldn't look into those piercing green eyes that I'd spent so many lonely hours both trying to remember and hoping to forget. I was afraid that they'd burn me; they'd set me ablaze. They would see right through me as they always did. And he would know instantly what was in my heart.

I steadfastly resisted the pull to engage him, my hand hanging limply in the air, waiting to shake the hand of the willowy girl, whose long, angular fingers were clasped tightly around Edward's forearm. She seemed to calculate her movements carefully as her impassive face turned toward me for an instant. I felt as if she were assessing me, deciding whether I was worthy of notice.

I saw a flash of dark emotion cloud her eyes for an instant before she snapped her head to the side, the blank expression of condescension back in place. She'd clearly decided to blatantly ignore my greeting, unwilling to remove her grasp on Edward's arm.

"Heidi Volturi," she blurted her name at me, a verbal slap.

I ungracefully dropped my hand back to my side, only slightly aware of Garrett's attempt to weave my trembling fingers with his. I heard Tanya hiss behind me and I cringed in embarrassment, wishing that my feelings weren't so obvious, that I could somehow hide the hot blush that rushed to my cheeks.

When Alice stepped forward to finish the awkward introductions, I took a step backward and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes for second, trying to calm the heavy beating of my heart.

I hated that I felt so unsure, that the girl at Edward's side could so easily intimidate me. I hated that I felt as small and uncertain as I did when I was sixteen years old. I couldn't go back to that place again. I had moved forward; I'd healed.

I needed to prove to myself that I was no longer a wounded little girl. I needed to show Edward and my friends that I was a woman now and that I was proud of who I'd become.

I could still feel Angela's hand on my back, her calm energy boosting my resolve. I opened my eyes and fought the urge to look down at the ground, instead lifting my gaze determinedly to meet the sharp green eyes intently focused on me.

He didn't say a word, but his eyes blazed ferociously at me, burning a fiery trail to my soul. Several seconds passed, his gaze holding mine prisoner as surely as if I'd been shackled. Alice slipped away to the kitchen with Tanya and Angela following, as Jasper suggested we sit, offering everyone drinks.

Heidi awakened from her aloof stance, yanking on Edward's arm until he slipped back down into loveseat next to her. She stretched one of her incredibly long, thin legs across the other, her tight black dress sliding precariously up her thigh.

Edward dropped his gaze to her knee and I felt the connection between us retract and snap like a rubber band, the electricity in the air fizzling as he looked away.

Garrett sat down on the couch that was angled perpendicular to the loveseat, dragging me down with him and snuggling me to his side. I spared a moment to glance at him incredulously. Never a big proponent of public displays of affection, he was being uncharacteristically affectionate with me. He'd placed one hand conspicuously on my knee and when Edward cleared his throat, Garrett began to move his hand upward toward my thigh.

I squeaked, his groping making me extremely uncomfortable, and placed my hand on top of his, effectively stopping his upward progression. Edward's eyes were again trained in my direction and they seemed to flare with anger. I tore my eyes from him and rested my gaze uneasily on Heidi, taking in her appearance with more scrutiny than I'd yet been able to.

Her skin was at first glance pale, but as I looked closer, I could see that she was lightly tanned, as if she'd recently been in the sun. She was incredibly thin, gaunt almost, her limbs long and sinewy. Even though I wasn't looking closely before, it was hard not to notice her height when she'd been standing next to Edward earlier. She must have been nearly six feet tall with her heels on.

Everything about her seemed long and stretched and sharp. Her black dress was incredibly short, enhancing the effect of her endless legs and was so tight that it was practically painted on her. On a more voluptuous woman, like Tanya, it would have been sexy and provocative, but on Heidi's girlish body it was simply stylish.

I'd vaguely noticed that she had virtually no breasts, her long, fine, nearly-white hair hanging painfully straight like a colorless drape over her chest and thin shoulders. There was nothing warm or womanly about her; even her face was cold, her tight skin stretched taut over her angular cheekbones.

I found that similar to my inability to look directly at Edward, I had a difficult time looking directly in her eyes, but for entirely different reasons. Not only was she trying hard to seem preoccupied, her eyes shifting insipidly around the room, but her cloudy blue eyes were shockingly light, as if almost entirely stripped of color. They were icy and unsettling, wide-set like those in portraits of English aristocrats.

She was beautiful in an ethereal, wan sort of way. I supposed that she could be considered elegant. We were nothing alike, and I could only think that if she was the kind of woman who Edward found attractive, there was never any chance for me. I was bewildered and saddened by this realization, my stomach churning anxiously.

Heidi was distant as she sat on the couch, her claws digging into Edward; I imagined that the mask of disinterestedness was her usual expression. I found my eyes fixed on where their bodies were connected – their arms entwined, her thigh rubbing against his.

"Bella," Edward's warm voice broke the uncomfortable silence, forcing me to finally turn to him. Before I could succumb to all my insecurities, I allowed my eyes to fall on him and to really see him for the first time.

My eyes hungrily washed across his body, noting that he was still so beautiful that he took my breath away and left me instantly wanting…yearning…wishing that I was the girl next to him, the one who was allowed to touch him, to claim him. As I looked deeper, I observed that there were a few slight differences in his appearance. He seemed a bit more muscular than he was in my memories, his black pants and grey sweater hugging his body in an unconsciously sexy way. His hair was a bit shorter than I'd ever seen it, and rather than the artfully mussed way he used to wear it, it was coifed in a more orderly style.

His skin was lightly tanned, giving him a healthy, ruddy look that he wore extremely well. He was sitting rather stiffly next to Heidi, seemingly impervious to her clinging attention. But when he spoke, he leaned forward toward me, breaking the physical connection to her. He placed his elbows on his knees, his eyes sparkling with warmth and drawing me to him as they always did.

"How have you been, Bella?" he asked eagerly. I couldn't resist my body's automatic response and I leaned forward toward him as I struggled to find my voice.

"Um, I've been well, thank you," I replied quietly, internally chastising myself for the formality of my response.

"The last time I saw you, you were still in your cast," he said, his eyes dropping to settle briefly on my legs. I felt the dreaded, familiar sensation of the rush of blood through my veins, heat flushing across my cheeks as his eyes flit upward to my face. I expected to see him as embarrassed as I, but he wasn't. His pupils were dilated, his lips curled in a broad, genuine smile.

"It's good to see that you've healed so well," he said sincerely.

I was so affected by his words - by his presence - that I could feel sweat beading on my upper lip, moistening my thighs. I tried to rub them together surreptitiously, but it was nearly impossible with the way that Garrett was positioned next to me. I subtly untangled my fingers from his, dragging my fingers through my hair as I attempted to settle my racing heart.

"Thank you," I responded to Edward, gaining a little confidence in my voice and my actions.

I shifted back into the seat of the couch as Jasper entered the room carrying a glass pitcher, with Alice behind him a huge platter in her arms with a plethora of appetizers: vegetables, crackers, cheeses, olives, even a bowl of strawberries. She placed the tray on the ottoman between the two couches with a satisfied grunt, wiping her hands off on her apron.

Angela and Tanya appeared behind Jasper, carrying several tall glasses between them. Jasper brightened at the sight of them, taking a hold of the glass Angela held out for him.

"What do you guys think of Mojitos?" he asked as he poured his concoction from the pitcher, chunks of mint leaves sliding into the glass along with the liquid. "Bella?" he asked, holding out the full glass for me.

"Oh, okay," I said as I accepted the drink. "I've never had one before."

"Well, you're in for a treat then. I think you'll like it, Bella," Edward interjected and I tried to hide my thrill at how beautiful my name sounded coming from his lips.

"We drank Mojitos all the time at Daddy's last summer, didn't we Edward?" Heidi said in her nasally, vapid tone, blatantly trying to recapture Edward's attention.

"Yes, I guess we did," Edward said as he took a glass from Jasper and handed it to Heidi.

"Daddy always says that light rum based drinks are the best. Is this light rum, or dark?" she asked, directing her question to Jasper.

"Dark actually," he answered unapologetically, handing another full glass to Edward.

"I like Mojitos," Garrett said to no one in particular, reminding me of his presence, and everyone all at once looked at him.

"I didn't know that," I said to him, bristling. I'd never seen him drink a cocktail before, only beer.

"Well yeah, I do," he confirmed smugly, as if I were challenging him on the point.

"Mojitos are yummy," Tanya said, interrupting. "I hope you made these strong, Jazzy," she said, hip bumping him so that he almost spilled the overflowing drink in his hand.

"Hey woman, do not harass the bartender," Jasper jokingly chided, smiling. I couldn't help but smile at the exchange, the two already seemingly close friends. I wondered what they all talked about when they were in the kitchen.

"You know, Mojitos were the favorite of Ernest Hemingway," Tanya said aloud, and I followed her gaze as she assessed Heidi and Edward.

"Mmm," Angela moaned appreciatively as she sipped her drink, plopping down into a chair in the corner of the room, eliciting a round of giggles from me, Tanya, and Alice.

Tanya stepped between the couches to wrest a hunk of soft cheese onto a square cracker when Heidi abruptly stood. "I know you," she squeaked, more animatedly than she seemed able.

"Um, I don't think so," Tanya shrugged, popping the entire cracker in her mouth. "We don't seem like we circulate in the same crowd," she added, not caring she had a mouth full of food.

"No, no, I'm fairly certain I've met you. Your father is Eleazar Denali…the cinematographer, right? Daddy's boat was in that movie your father did…oh you know the one about the man with the dog, who owned a diner and lived on a boat in the marina in Fort Lauderdale. Daddy's 150 foot _Andromeda la dea_ was the sailboat he stole when he went crazy and tried to motor it out of the harbor," she explained while we all tried to make sense of her words.

"Your daddy is Aro Volturi," Tanya said plainly, clearly unimpressed. Angela was whispering in Tanya's ear, her hands running down her arms comfortingly.

"I remember now," she said, nodding, her hands on her hips. "You came to the wrap party at our house."

"Yes, your little house on the hill," Heidi said snidely. "It was so hot inside. I knew that it was probably just an oversight that the air conditioner wasn't turned on that night…And you know, it's too bad there weren't any celebrities there that I wanted to meet, but Daddy wanted me to come. And I never say no to Daddy," Heidi explained in a babyish voice, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout.

"Hm," Tanya murmured, her face reddening.

"Bella, how is work?" Edward blurted, changing the subject before it got more uncomfortable in the room.

"Well…," I started, but was shockingly interrupted by Garrett, who sat up straighter, throwing his shoulders back while talking.

"Bella's doing really well at work. We work together…at the newspaper…um, we started at the same time. We were interns, fact checkers at first, but now, we're both writing columns, not feature pieces, but smaller columns. Mine generally revolve around sports, politics, regional concerns.

"Bella does the fluff pieces," he explained bluntly. "You know, human interest stuff. Nothing too important, but there's no doubt in my mind, she'll prove she's ready for the bigger stories in time. I mean, of course she's a good writer, but you could be a little more motivated, right honey?" He was still looking at Edward as he patted me on the knee with condescension. He nodded with authority, his words ringing out into the silence.

It's always fascinating and eye-opening to hear someone talk about you so candidly right in front of you, to hear and understand all at once what they really think. I was both shocked and embarrassed by Garrett's appraisal of my career. I really had no idea that he'd put so much thought into our professional competition, and that he'd been keeping tabs on the status of my position at the paper.

His words were a blatant reminder that I often let my fears and insecurities prevent me from pursuing my true ambitions and from taking advantages of opportunities that seemed overwhelming at the time. I knew that this was true, but to hear Garrett trivialize my life for Edward as if he was more intricately involved in it than he was, or had some kind of ownership over my decisions, rattled me in the wrong way. If I was unsure of my feelings for Garrett before, his careless statements cemented my dislike and distrust in him.

He squeezed my hand as if proud of his thoughtless outburst. As Alice retreated to the kitchen to check on the food and Jasper began to speak with Heidi and Edward, I stretched my fingers and deliberately yanked my hand away from him.

"I'm going to see if Alice needs anything," I said as I stood, wishing more than anything that I'd not brought Garrett with me.

"Oh, I'll come with you," Garrett said, oblivious to my feelings. He grasped my hand again before I could pull away, following me into the kitchen.

"Hi," Alice greeted warmly when we entered the warm kitchen. She wrinkled her nose in confusion at the sight of Garrett on my heels, but quickly smoothed her expression.

"I thought I'd check if you needed any help," I offered as Alice slipped her hands into two giant hand-shaped potholders and pulled the oven door open. A blast of hot air hit my legs as she pulled out a steaming casserole dish and positioned it on the top of the stovetop to cool.

My eyes drifted from the vegetable concoction to the rest of the kitchen. Though it was a small galley-type arrangement, with the sink on one side and the oven on the opposite wall, it seemed cozy and functional. The appliances were new and stainless and would have seemed cold if not paired with the sand colored Spanish style tiles on the floor.

As I expected, there were small paintings everywhere: diminutive landscapes, a folk piece with red skinned girls in white dresses and shiny black shoes, and a larger painting of a white cow with black spots grazing in a meadow that sat over the small dining area at the edge of the room.

There were French doors to a side patio next to the dining area, framed by a swag of colorful African-looking fabric, embellished by bold patterns of brilliant greens, reds and yellows. It was cozy and artsy – very Alice.

"No, I don't think so, just keep me company," Alice said as she reached for a knife from magnetic strip along the wall.

She began to cut the casserole into little squares, her brow furrowing in concentration. I watched her with interest, wondering what kind of menu she had planned for dinner.

As if reading my thoughts, Garrett chimed in. "What's that you've got there?" he asked, his words tinged with the slightest hint of suspicion. Garrett was a strictly meat and potatoes kind of guy, never venturing to try anything remotely different from what his mother cooked for him when he was young.

"It's a carrot-mushroom loaf. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's really delicious," she explained.

"Uh…oh," Garrett muttered.

"Are you still doing the macrobiotic thing?" I asked, knowing that she'd experimented with many different diets through the years.

"Oh no, not for a while now. Jasper broke me down bit by bit until I couldn't do it anymore. He's worse than my mother. I'm just vegetarian now. Don't worry," she added, looking directly at Garrett. "Jasper's got the grill going, and he's going to cook up some steaks for you meat-eaters."

I leaned against the counter next to her and noted the heavy earthenware jars that cluttered the granite counter-tops, stuffed with wooden spoons, spatulas and a motley collection of metal cooking utensils. Every kind of small kitchen appliance known to man was crammed on the tight work surface, nestled among the jars: an espresso machine, a blender, juicer, toaster, food processor, a Panini maker, a Kitchen-Aid mixer, and even an elaborate electric can opener.

Alice caught me scanning her kitchen and rolled her eyes. "I know, I know, it's total overkill, right? It's Mom's fault. She went nuts when I told her I needed some things for the kitchen."

"I can definitely see Esme's touch," I replied as I took in all the small details, letting happiness wash over me at the thought of the beautiful woman who'd filled so much of my young, yearning heart with warmth. "I miss her. How is she?"

Before Alice could answer, Garrett interrupted. "Who's Esme?" he asked, his unctuous smile sullying our intimate moment. He leaned in conspiratorially, snaking his arm around my shoulders.

"My mom," Alice responded.

"Hm, okay," Garrett nodded, squeezing me to his side.

"Garrett, could you go ask Jasper if he's got the grill ready?" Alice asked in a falsely sweet voice and I mentally prepared myself for a tongue-lashing.

As soon as Garrett disappeared from sight, Alice turned toward me, the knife still in her hand. She pointed at me with the tip of the knife, gesturing with it for emphasis.

"What are you doing with that guy?" she demanded.

"What do you mean?" I feigned innocence.

"Come on, Bella, I know you, and you don't even like him. You flinch when he touches you!" she whispered hotly, waving the knife in the air.

"Please put the knife down, Alice. You're making me nervous," I pleaded. She giggled and placed it down on the counter, turning her gaze back to me.

"So…" she prompted.

"I don't know. I thought I liked him. But lately, I just feel like I'm a puppet around him, you know? Like he doesn't really care who I am at all. He just assumes that I want to do what he wants, that I think like he does. He never asks or cares about how I feel."

"Why do you put up with that?"

"I don't know. It's just easier to go along with him than to argue or to assert myself. I wish I had a better answer than that, but I just don't know why I'm with him anymore."

"That's not a good enough reason to be with someone, Bella," Alice said softly. "You deserve more than that." She put her hand on her hip, a serious expression on her face.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the stern look she gave me. "I know you're right. I'm going to break up with him soon," I promised, whispering.

"Good! Because life is too short," she blurted and then realizing what she said, shot me a panicked look. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Bella. I shouldn't have…"

"I'm fine, Alice," I said sincerely. I only felt a small pang of sadness at her words. I found that I could look back on my childhood with my mother now with some detachment. It was as if it had all happened in some alternate reality, in some other life.

My mother's death and the way in which it uprooted my life was a trauma that haunted me for a long time, but I was beginning to feel like I was headed in the right direction. The painful events of my past made me into the woman that I was. It had scarred me, but I was stronger because of it.

"Well, he may not care about your feelings, but he's definitely attached to you. He even seems…a little…possessive," she added gingerly. "He's certainly good-looking. Not as gorgeous as my Jasper, but he's pretty hot."

"Yeah," I agreed, silently thinking that he paled next to Edward. He seemed like a silly, petty boy compared with the fierce, raw manliness of Edward.

As if she sensed where my mind had wandered, she quickly changed subjects. "So, I wanted to talk to you about something kind of, well…exciting," she said slowly, her eyes wandering as if thinking of the right words.

"What is it?" I asked anxiously, thoughts of Edward and Heidi coming to mind. I almost dreaded her words.

She placed her hands on my shoulders, as her lips curled into a mischievous, scheming smile. "I have a proposal for you," she said, pausing to see if she'd piqued my curiosity. "It's such a good idea…" she began to explain, but Jasper's hollering from the other side of the house stopped her mid-sentence.

"What?" she yelled back to him.

"I said the steaks are done. It's time to eat!" he repeated as he sauntered into the kitchen in his sexy, languorous way. He carried a platter piled high with juicy-looking steaks balanced on his forearm as he playfully snapped at Alice with the stainless tongs in his other hand.

"Get out of my way, woman," he demanded in a forced, gravelly southern accent that would have been comical from any one else, but from Jasper it almost seemed natural. "It's time for the real men to eat some red meat," he continued, teasing her.

"You'd already be dead from a heart attack if it weren't for me," she lobbied back at him. "It's all my veggies that keep you so healthy."

As soon as Jasper placed the platter down on the counter-top, Alice eased her way into his arms, pecking him lightly on the lips. He instantly deepened the kiss, wrapping his beautiful arms firmly around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. After all this time their love for each other was still so palpable; it took my breath away.

I'd been hoping that this would be one of those dinner parties where everyone took a plate and made themselves comfortable in any corner of the couch, soft oversized chair or random unoccupied seat. But Alice had been trained to entertain by Esme, who loved to make grand gestures, using her boundless creativity to transform any small event to into something _more_…something _memorable_.

So I found myself sitting at Alice and Jasper's long mission style dining table, the only thing between me and Edward an elaborate place setting, including vintage floral napkins, a Mexican glass water goblet, and an artsy centerpiece comprised of cool, round stones, acorns and long speckled feathers in pure grays and browns. The arrangement instantly reminded me of Sue Clearwater and the lavish vase of peacock feathers that always sat behind her desk.

I still found it difficult to call her by her first name, despite the fact that she was no loner my teacher and she and Charlie had been dating nearly five years now. I missed Charlie. We had grown very close over the past few years, finding it easier to talk about the emotional stuff and new developments in our lives on the phone than we were ever able to in person.

Charlie was surprisingly candid on the phone - and _funny_ - entertaining me with his wry sense of humor. Over the years, he'd kept me informed of all the recent crimes in Forks – burglaries, drunken mishaps, domestic battery – as well as his unique version of the local gossip. Though his account was often laced with sarcasm and disbelief at the stupidity of his neighbors, Charlie could never completely hide his genuine concern and attachment to the motley cast of characters and his heartfelt commitment to keeping them safe.

Though I loved to hear news of Forks, these conversations inevitably turned on me, spotlighting the failings in my life. Charlie always could tell when I was hiding something. Though I'd tell him about the stories I was working on for the paper, he always dug deeper, wanting to know where my mind was at, where I saw myself in the future. I know he had my best interest at heart, but it was always difficult to delve too deep and I kept my side of the conversation as light and superficial as I could.

Charlie seemed to know just how hard he could push before I cut him off. And even though I wouldn't acknowledge the depression that persistently threatened to consume me, Charlie always happily took what he could get, praising me for how far I'd come and encouraging me to follow my dreams.

It took me some time before I believed in Charlie's praise. A childhood without any encouragement had effectively destroyed my self-esteem. It was too easy to find fault in everything I did. Oftentimes after those conversations, I'd pull out my journal and write about how I was feeling. Sometimes I would make a "trust chart" like Edward had taught me, and I almost always surprised myself at how many things I had to be grateful for and how much faith I actually had in life.

Sometimes Charlie would talk about Sue and how their relationship was progressing. She was seven years younger than him, but it didn't seem to make any difference for them. If anything, Sue made Charlie seem more youthful. Sometimes I felt as though I could see him as she did - a handsome and sensitive man, protective and faithful. At these times, I lamented all the time we'd lost, the years together that had been robbed from us by Renee and her selfishness, her twisted logic forcing us to run.

In a phone conversation we'd had just a few weeks prior, Charlie had confided that Sue was beginning to hint about marriage and about having children of her own. He'd been hesitant to tell me, stumbling onto the subject inelegantly before gently probing my feelings about the matter and asking my opinion.

I couldn't deny that at first I was shocked by the news, but as I twisted the idea around in my mind, I realized that the thought only brought me happiness. Charlie deserved a second chance at a family, a second chance to prove what a good father he could be.

"How is your father?" Edward asked, his sultry voice washing over me, pulling my gaze from the feathers. I grasped my perfectly folded napkin, twisting it in my fingers as I tried to appear unaffected by his attention.

"He's good. He's really good. As a matter of fact, he may be getting married soon," I rambled nervously as my eyes travelled over the symmetrical planes of his face, noting the shadow of stubble on the edge of his jaw. _Beautiful…he's still so beautiful._

"Your father's getting married?" Angela asked from the other end of the table, a hint of surprise in her tone. I hadn't meant to tell anyone about my conversation with my father, but Edward always could get me to reveal anything to him. I wished that we were alone.

"Um, well, he hasn't proposed yet or anything. But I think he will," I answered.

"Will he get married in Forks?" Alice asked, genuinely interested.

"I don't know," I answered, worried that I'd betrayed my father's confidence.

"Is Forks that dinky, wet place you're from, Edward?" Heidi asked, not waiting for an answer. "I still can't understand why your parents decided to raise their family in such a remote, crude little corner of Washington. They could have afforded somewhere so much nicer."

"Casserole? Heidi?" Alice asked, interrupting Heidi's speech. Heidi's eyelids fluttered in confusion before she turned her attention to the dish in Alice's hands.

"Is there any dairy in it?" she asked. "I don't do dairy," she declared to the table in her most pretentious tone.

"Are you lactose-intolerant?" asked Angela, who once told me that when she was a child her parents duped her into believing that she was allergic to sugar simply to keep her from eating it. Their deception led her to be suspicious of the concept of allergies in general, as though all allergies were fabrications for one reason or another, designed to give people an excuse to manipulate others while garnering sympathy and attention to themselves.

"Well…no," Heidi answered, uncomfortable to have to explain herself. "I just eat a very low calorie diet. I like to watch what I eat."

"There's a little cheese in it," Alice offered. "But otherwise, it's very healthy."

Heidi nodded with her head tilted back, emphasizing the length of her long goose neck, the bones of her collarbone cutting a severe horizontal line across her shoulders. I shifted my gaze to the side, finding that Edward's eyes were fixed on me. I immediately looked to my plate, my skin aflame, my heart quivering excitedly.

Conversation flowed across the other end of the table and I vaguely noted that Angela and Tanya seemed to be enjoying themselves, teasing Alice and laughing with Jasper. Our end of the table was more composed, focused on listening to the easy banter of the others.

I loaded my plate with food robotically, not thinking of anything but the green eyes that seemed to be focused on me every time I lifted my gaze. My stomach rumbled, writhing with emotion, and as I cut the large, bloody steak on my plate into little bite size pieces, eating was the farthest thing from my mind.

I stabbed a piece of meat with my fork, pushing it around my plate thoughtlessly as I felt the heat of Edward's attention. I couldn't resist sneaking glances at him, each time finding that he was sneaking glances at me too. I desperately wanted to ask him where he'd been, what he'd been doing, how long he'd be in Seattle, but I just couldn't summon the courage to ask.

I practiced a question in my mind, imagining a disinterested lilt to my voice, _So Edward, what have you been up to?...So Edward, what have you been up to?...So Edward, what have you been up to?_

I opened my mouth to say the words, praying that I could say them before I lost my nerve, when Garrett plopped a dollop of casserole onto my plate. "If you don't like the steak don't eat it," he whispered in my ear, placing a furtive kiss on my cheek before pulling away.

A low grumble came from across the table, my body flinching automatically and I sat forward in my chair. Though I felt a warming tingling in every square inch of my body, Garrett didn't seem to have heard the sound, busily cutting his meat and shoveling it into his mouth. He didn't see what I did: Edward's fiery glare directed at him, his jaw clenched painfully tight, his teeth angrily grinding against one another.

I was so uncomfortable by this situation that I couldn't sit still. I was sure that everyone was as aware of the tension as I was. But a quick scan of the table - to where Alice was talking animatedly with large sweeping gestures as if explaining something in great detail - proved that I was wrong.

I could no longer hold onto my fork, dropping it noisily on my plate. All eyes shifted toward me and I grasped the napkin in my lap, twisting it anxiously through my fingers.

"I…I have to use the bathroom," I announced, awkwardly scooting my heavy chair back and standing. I didn't wait to hear Alice finish giving me the directions before my feet starting moving rapidly down the hallway. I heard blood rushing through my ears, troubling waves of emotion churning in my stomach. My feet wouldn't move fast enough. I just needed to get away. I needed air and space, cold water on my face.

I finally found the restroom, closing the door quickly behind me. I closed my eyes, leaning against the back of the door, feeling my breaths as I sucked in and out, in and out. When my heart had settled, I opened my eyes, leaning forward toward the mirror.

"Why is this so hard?" I asked my reflection, taking in my flushed cheeks, the perspiration on my upper lip and between my breasts.

I moistened a washcloth and put it on my forehead and the back of my neck. I dabbed the cool cloth across the exposed skin of my chest, allowing it to sooth my frazzled nerves. "I'm not fifteen anymore," I said to the woman in the mirror. I inhaled deeply, running my fingers through my hair.

I turned the knob and stepped through the door into the hall. I'd taken just one wary step back toward the dining room when I heard a throat clearing behind me. I stopped abruptly, pivoting, my hair whipping across my shoulders.

I couldn't hide my surprise at seeing Edward leaning against the wall, waiting for me, his hands crammed into his pockets. Even when agitated and uncertain he was incredibly sexy.

"Bella," Edward said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between us. "I…I wanted to talk to you alone," he explained, looking down at me. His hand reached out to touch mine, but he thought better of it, dropping it back to his side.

I returned his gaze, both drawn to and repelled by the intensity in his brilliant green eyes. But I couldn't hold his stare; it was too much, there were too many feelings. He made me feel raw in a way that I thought I'd never feel again. I'd spent the last five years trying to mend the hole in my heart, but with one heated stare, he'd ripped it right open.

"Bella, please," he begged, his fingers touching my chin, lifting my face to his so that I had no choice but to look at him. "Talk to me."

**Don't hate me because I left it here. I could have gone on forever and I had to stop somewhere! =)**

**Thank you so much for reading and for all your absolutely wonderful reviews! I have the best readers in all of fanfiction! You guys make me so happy.**


	27. Chapter 27

Sorry that this isn't a new chapter, but I wanted to keep you updated on the status of the story. I've just posted the final chapter of my other story, The Innocent Heart of Darkness, which is part of the reason that my updates have been coming so sporadically.

It's taken me a long time to eek out the last few chapters – like squeezing blood from a stone. I've been both emotionally resistant to finish the story, as well as anxious to ensure that it was a worthy end to my very first fan fiction.

Even though it is very different, I'd appreciate it if you'd give it a looksee. It's my first fanfic baby and I'm ridiculously proud of myself for completing it.

And now that it's done, I'm hoping that I will be able to update Second Chances much more frequently. I hate to make any promises I can't keep, however I do plan on dedicating myself entirely to Second Chances and making a genuine effort to be timelier with the updates.

I'll be overwhelmingly busy the next few weeks, but after the holidays, I plan on having more free time to fantasize, to write, to share…

Thank you so much for your patience and I wish you a wonderful holiday!


	28. Chapter 28

**I really hate excuses so I'm not going to leave any this time. But I do want you to know that despite my laziness and my tendency towards distraction that I love this story and I'm going to make an attempt (a very serious one) to write faster and more often. **

**Thank you so much for cutting me some slack; you are the best readers in all of fanfiction! **

**Thanks to SM who created these characters and to my beta, ms. ambrosia. **

I couldn't concentrate on anything – the murmur of conversation from the back seat, or Garrett's hot fingers reaching across the car to tug on mine. It all seemed so distant, so insignificant compared with the turmoil in my mind.

I tilted my head against the window, slightly refreshed by the cold reality of the hard glass. The view outside was obscured by the frosted glass, the distorted imagery an all too appropriate reflection of my muddled thoughts. I concentrated on the gentle rhythm of the passing scenery, the glow from the streetlights like pinpricks of clarity in the haze of a dense fog.

I thought I was ready to see him again. I thought I could handle it. But seeing that Ice Queen wrap her talons around Edward's arm hurt more than I could have ever prepared for. I wasn't surprised to see that he belonged to someone else; he was too incredible to be alone. Knowing this didn't make it any easier to see it in person.

He'd been a fantasy, a haunting memory for so long, that I could never have known what kind of effect he'd have on me. Before seeing him, I'd wondered if his stare was still so intense, if his piercing green eyes could still make my heart flutter. Would his voice still send chills down my arms and make my knees feel weak?

I'd only just walked through the door when I got my answer. It was as if nothing had changed. I could sense his presence as if tied to him by an invisible cord. And when our eyes met…it was as if nothing had ever changed. The air was as charged around us as if we were back in Forks sharing a wall…sharing our hearts.

When he'd followed me to the bathroom and we'd met in the hallway, I moved as if in a trance. I was shocked to see him there waiting for me, but I was also so relieved. Though my face was flushed, my hands trembling, my legs carried me forward automatically.

I couldn't resist him. I was almost painfully drawn to him, but I couldn't deny his allure, no matter how frightened I was. He could crush me so easily, but my need was so great that I would have let him.

I was never so reckless with my feelings. In the last few lonely years I'd learned how to protect my heart. But with him it was different – _I_ was different.

"Bella," he said, his long fingers reaching out. "Please talk to me."

When his hand touched my chin I couldn't help but lift my eyes to his. They were as troubled as they ever were and all at once I wondered if we would always make each other hurt in some way. Would I always cause him pain? He seemed tortured by me which only made me feel desperate to ease his discomfort.

"I can't believe that you're here. You're so different," Edward whispered breathily, looking deeply into my eyes, his hand sliding to my cheek so that he was cradling my face. Heat surged through my body at his touch, numbing my thoughts.

"Didn't Alice tell you I was coming?" I found myself asking as I struggled to find the courage to say what I really wanted – that I'd missed him, that I'd thought of him constantly through the years, that I wanted to know him again.

"Yes, but…well, I hardly believed it until I saw you walk through the door. I still can't believe it. After all this time…I almost thought that I'd never see you again."

I let his words wash over me like scalding water, cleansing but wounding. My senses were so attuned to him that I could see the pulsing vein in his neck, feel his pillowy breath on my cheek.

"Edward…I…I…" I had a difficult time forming a sentence, the words dying on my lips. My entire body was vibrating with energy, with the intensity of our connection surging through my limbs and to my heart. I felt almost painfully alive, awakened for the first time in so long.

I wished so badly that I knew the right words to say to him. I couldn't admit anything – not then, not at Alice's dinner party, not with Garrett and Heidi waiting for us in the other room. I forced my gaze downward, trying to think of something innocuous to say, something safe.

Edward's hand drifted downward slowly, wrapping around my wrists and holding my hands lightly in his as if I was fragile, breakable. Even his lightest touch was so much more electrifying, more passionate, more…everything than Garrett's. There was just no comparison.

His gaze fell on our hands as he spoke. "Bella, I have so many things I'd like to talk to you about. You seem so…so much…" he hesitated and I jumped in to finish for him.

"Older?"

"No," he caught my eye again. "More confident, more sure of yourself. I knew that you'd do well once you got out of Forks. I always had faith that you'd be successful."

"Well that point's clearly debatable," I countered, thinking of Garrett's less-than-flattering assessment of my career.

"Don't be modest," Edward said gently. "I've read your column and it's very good. You're really a very good writer."

I was shocked at his admission. "How? How have you read my column?"

"Esme subscribes to your paper so that she can follow your column each week. She emails all your articles to everyone in the family."

For so long I'd felt disconnected and alienated from Edward, as if separated by a great chasm of time and space. To find out that he'd, in some small way, been still connected to me all this time, reading my articles each week, was both exciting and terrifying.

"That's so flattering and sweet…and embarrassing," I admitted.

"I particularly liked the article you wrote about that artist/poet, Richard Emory…the one who builds those large metal sculptures in his front yard out of aluminum cans."

"Oh yeah, he was an interesting guy. He lives in the same house in Seattle where he grew up even though they built the freeway all around him. You can see his biggest sculptures from the overpass. One of them is a giant hand that looks like it's going to smack you as you approach. The city is going to make him dismantle it; it's caused quite a few accidents," I mused, recalling the eccentric man I'd interviewed.

Despite the tension still sparking between us, it was nice talking to him in this way. I was instantly reminded of the long afternoons we'd spent in Edward's room – reading, listening to music, sharing our interests and learning about each other. Even with my broken leg, I'd never been happier than in the hazy bliss of those days when we'd crossed the boundary from friendship into something infinitely more precious and indefinable.

"His poems are quite good too," Edward remarked, pulling me back to the present, his thumbs tentatively rubbing lazy circles on the back of my hands. His mouth curved into a shy, crooked smile that, despite the small creases around his eyes, made him look adorably boyish. I was so overwhelmed by the tingle of energy ricocheting between us, so charmed by him, that I could barely retain the string of casual conversation that we seemed to be hiding behind.

In a feeble attempt to alleviate the tension, I blurted, "Yes, but he's no Neruda." As soon as the words fell from my lips, Edward's eyes closed and he dropped his head. When he opened them again I could see that the easy tenor of our conversation had shifted. It was as if we were catapulted back to a different time, both reflecting on our shared experience in the past.

"No, no Neruda," Edward agreed, shaking his head, his hands tightening slightly as he repeated the poem he'd recited to me so many years before:

"_Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,  
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:  
You have moonlines, applepathways:  
Naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat._

Naked, you are blue as the night in Cuba;  
You have vines and stars in your hair;  
Naked, you are spacious and yellow  
As summer in a golden church.

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails,  
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born  
And you withdraw to the underground world,

as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:  
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,  
And becomes a naked hand again."

As he spoke, the beautiful imagery filled my mind. He couldn't have known how much this poem had come to mean to me. He couldn't have known that I'd read it over and over through the years, each time my heart constricting, my breath hitching at the passionate memories it reawakened within me.

I couldn't stop my emotions from spilling over. I couldn't hide my feelings any longer. Everything he said – his careful touch – tore me to pieces inside.

"Can we meet again while I'm here in town, Bella?" Edward asked intently as he gently wiped a tear from my eye.

"Are you leaving soon?" I asked him, trying to mask my disappointment. I'd been so overwhelmed, so consumed by the idea of seeing him again, that I hadn't thought beyond this first meeting. I hadn't even considered that seeing Edward tonight might be as ephemeral as two ships passing in the sea.

"Um, I'm only here for a week or so," Edward admitted reluctantly.

"Oh." My attempt to hide how crushed I was by this news was feeble at best. I felt more tears well up in my eyes and I struggled to wrest my hands from his so that I could turn away before he noticed.

"Bella," he whispered dejectedly, allowing my hands to slip from his. I began to move away, but he wrapped his long fingers around my arm, keeping me from my cowardly retreat. "I need to see you again," he said emphatically, pulling me closer.

My eyes raised to his moistened lips as I placed my hands on his chest. I'd intended to push him back, but I was so shocked by the contact that I simply froze. I could feel the rhythm of his breathing accelerate under my tingling fingers. I inhaled deeply as his hands ran down my arms, feeling as though my heart might beat its way out of my chest, but relishing the sensation.

He grasped my hands again, linking our fingers together. Without breaking eye contact he raised our joined hands toward his lips and I was sure that he was going to kiss the back of my hand when a voice shattered our privacy. "Edward…Bella, everyone is missing you," Alice warned as she walked around the corner and into the hallway.

Edward dropped my hands instantly, but it was too late. Alice had caught the gesture, her gaze flitting back and forth between Edward and me as if putting it all together.

Her eyes stopped at my face, registering my traitorous tears. The shock in her expression turned first to judgment, as if she'd uncovered some nefarious scheme in the works, and then transformed to one of genuine concern.

"Are you feeling okay, Bella?" she asked worriedly, shooting a glare at her brother.

"I'm fine," I snapped. I didn't want her to blame Edward in any way for my inability to contain my emotions. "Edward and I were just talking," I explained weakly, walking back to the dining room in hopes of cutting off her train of thought.

It was physically painful to walk away from Edward when my body and soul recognized that he was so close. As I walked into the room, I knew that I couldn't hide my inner turmoil from showing on my face. I'd never been good at masking my emotions.

Luckily, Angela noticed me before anyone else and jumped up, scurrying across the room to me. She placed her toned arm around my shoulders and led me purposefully to the kitchen before anyone noticed my frazzled state, exclaiming over her shoulder that we were getting some water. Her words cut icily through the strained atmosphere that had settled on the gathering in living room, causing shivers to run down my spine as we passed through.

As soon as we were nestled in the dead-end in front of the refrigerator, the cold stainless door eerily reflecting a distorted version of our bodies, Angela placed her hands on my arms, holding me at arms-length so that she could better analyze my expression. She did this often – studied my face - as if she could see what was hidden in my mind if she looked long and deep enough.

Before she could get a read on me this time, Alice interrupted, swinging around the corner with her hands on her hips. She had a very determined look to her, but dropped her scrutiny as soon as she saw that I was so obviously distressed.

"Bella…" she blurted before she quickly changed her tactic. "Um, are you okay? Did…Did Edward make you upset?" she stammered, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

"Oh, no, I'm okay, Alice. Edward and I…well, we were just catching up," I lied, looking away, fixing my stare at my elongated, undulating image in the shiny refrigerator's surface.

"I think your _boyfriend_ is wondering where you are. He almost went looking for you," she whispered, emphasizing her words. "I cut him off before he came in here. Here, help me get the dessert ready," she said sharply, allowing her irritation with me to show as she opened a drawer and handed me an ice cream scoop.

I knew that I would have to give her more of an explanation for my behavior later, but I needed time to process everything. I was more than thankful that, even though she was clearly frustrated by the situation, she wasn't pushing me.

"Angela, could you reach up there and grab those silver ice cream bowls?" Alice asked as she pulled a large plastic container out of the freezer.

"Sure," Angela said, allowing Alice to take charge of the situation. She placed the bowls on the counter and stepped out of the way so that Alice could direct us around the small space.

Just like her mother, Alice moved around the kitchen with enviable comfort and grace, every movement efficient and natural. She scooped two perfect globes of homemade raspberry sorbet in each bowl, artfully finishing off each serving with a shortbread cookie that she'd earlier dipped in dark chocolate.

Angela and I were allotted the task of handing out the desserts in the living room. Angela gave the first two bowls in her hands to Tanya and Heidi. Heidi looked in her bowl with distaste, drawing all the eyes in the room to her as she plucked the cookie out of her dessert and ceremoniously placed it on a napkin on the coffee table.

I had just handed Garrett and Jasper their servings when she starting poking gingerly at the sorbet with her spoon as if trying to somehow discover its calorie content. "Is there milk in this? Because I'm lactose intolerant. I can do non-fat, but only if it's organic," she announced to the room, her spoon suspended in the air while she waited for Angela to answer.

"I'll go ask Alice," she responded with a heavy sigh, not hiding her exasperation.

I followed Angela back into the kitchen, grabbing two of the prepared bowls from the counter and returning to the room while Angela and Alice started a hushed conversation about Heidi as they put the sorbet away. They were still giggling when I returned to the living room.

"Well?" Heidi snarled pugnaciously at me.

"Um, I don't know," I answered. "Angela was checking for you," I explained as I scanned the room to see who still needed a dessert.

I quickly noticed that Edward was the only one left who didn't have one. I took a step closer to where he was sitting, his eyes focused on me. Heidi was complaining, but I toned her out. Edward also didn't seem to be listening; his expression was strangely calm and complacent as his mouth curved into a wickedly gorgeous smirk.

I reached out with the cold bowl, the silver chilling my palm. He raised his hand to take the bowl, hesitating for the briefest of moments, his long fingers brushing against mine, a faint but sinful caress. My breath caught in my throat and I felt the flush rise in my cheeks as I stumbled backward toward the opposite couch to sit next to Garrett. I nearly dropped the last bowl of sorbet in my hands as I tried to compose myself and steady my breathing, all the while hoping that my blush wasn't betraying to the entire room the secret in my heart.

I focused my attention to the delicious dessert in my lap, savoring the intensity of the flavor as it melted on my tongue. I was always like a little kid when I ate sweets. Tanya liked to make fun of me for how I was affected by a simple dessert. She claimed that she'd never seen anyone get so much enjoyment out of a single bite of chocolate or a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I was making up for years of childhood without so much as a candy bar. Renee didn't like sweets much herself and never even remotely considered buying them for me. I could count on one hand the scoops of ice cream I'd had in the first ten years of my life. So now every time I ate dessert, I ate with zeal, slowly so that I could relish each bite.

"There's no milk at all in the sorbet, Heidi," I heard Alice say as I finally looked up from my bowl. I looked toward Heidi automatically to catch her reaction to this news, but instead found two green eyes latched onto me, watching my every move with the spoon. I plucked the spoon from between my lips, realizing I'd been moaning as I sometimes did.

Now that I'd been caught in his stare, I couldn't move my eyes; I was hypnotized by him. It was as if there were no other people in the room: no Garrett, no Heidi, no concerned friends with observant, discerning minds looking on.

I couldn't deny the meaning in his look. I had seen it before, but was too young, too innocent to understand it. But now I could see it, and sense it in my bones –a desire and need so clear, so visceral that I could taste it. And it was directed at me. He wanted me. _He wanted me_.

I felt a shift inside, my fear melting, and transforming into a new emotion as I fought my weakness and the lingering urge to break our connection. Instead I grasped onto my newfound surge of courage, embracing it. I had nothing to lose that I hadn't already lost.

I resolved not to look away until he did. I could be strong; I could take a risk and show him how he affected me. A surge of adrenaline spiked through my veins at the thought, my heart thrumming madly in my chest. The only other time I'd felt so reckless with abandon was the first and last time I'd been on a motorcycle – the devastating day of the crash.

Perhaps my fear was justified. Nothing good came out of my impulsiveness before. And yet, I knew I was ready to stop being frightened of the world, to take some chances, to reach out and take what I wanted. And I wanted Edward Cullen. I had always and would always want Edward Cullen.

Before I thought too deeply about my actions, I shifted my weight so that I was wholly facing Edward, my body aligned with his. I focused every molecule of my body toward him, my desire intensifying with the effort. His eyes flickered as if in recognition that I was silently offering myself to him – my body, my soul, my heart. I deliberately took a large bite of sorbet, licking it sensually off of my spoon, imagining running the tip of my tongue along his jaw and down his neck to his collarbone.

I could nearly taste the musky sweat on his skin as I parted my sugar-coated lips with an intentional flick of my tongue. I thought of only him, of how my body responded to him as I eased my tongue along my top lip, both wiping away the sweetness, and living out the achingly deep fantasy that consumed my mind.

Edward never broke his heated gaze as I swiped my tongue along my bottom lip temptingly. I tilted my head slightly, looking up at him through my lashes as I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, releasing it slowly and then biting it with my teeth. I had no idea where I'd learned to do this dance of seduction, but with Edward, it felt instinctual. I could no longer think rationally. I was intoxicated - swept away by the intensity of our connection.

"Bella, did you hear me?" Garrett asked, tugging on my arm almost painfully. I abruptly snapped out of my stupor, my eyes flashing in his direction. I felt an instant of surprise, along with a heavy dose of confusion and shame. How could I have been so enraptured that I'd forgotten where I was? I wondered how long I'd been staring at Edward and if my thoughts and feelings had been blatant. It seemed like time had frozen, but as I looked down at the intact remaining scoop of sorbet in my bowl, I marveled that only a wisp of time had passed.

Garrett's stolid hand on my arm, Heidi's hollow glare, Alice's calculating grimace all brought reality tumbling back down onto me, embarrassment washing over me like a cold shower. All my insecurities returning and taking root as if I'd never conquered them, as if the whole episode had been an unattainable dream.

"Are you ready to go?" Garrett leaned in and whispered, his cold breath sending chills down my spine. I nodded grimly, realizing that I still had the spoon clutched in my trembling hand. I placed it into my bowl, carelessly swirling it through the dessert as I fought the building desire to glance at _him_ again.

Garrett stood, snatching my bowl from my grasp, disappearing into the kitchen. I stood, determined to avert my gaze from Edward, but I couldn't resist his pull. I quickly looked in his direction to see that he was still gazing at me, but with a sad, defeated expression. It was as it always was with him – everything about him excited and confused me all at once. So much between us was always left unsaid. I turned away in frustration, toward Alice.

"Thank you so much for having us over tonight," I said to her and she stood to wrap her arms around me.

"I'm so happy we'll be seeing each other more often," she said as she led me out into the hallway. "Can we get together on Sunday?" she asked. "I was distracted tonight," she explained with a knowing expression. "And we didn't really get to talk much… and I still have something I need to talk to you about. I realize now that it will be better if we're alone."

"I'd love that Alice," I replied, hugging her back tightly, both anticipating and dreading talking with her one-on-one.

Tanya and Angela followed us, gathering coats and saying goodbyes as Garrett emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants. Tanya bent to hug Alice, thanking her while planting an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek.

"You and your Jasper are adorably scrumptious, Alice," she said as she pulled away. "And dinner was wonderful. You'll both have to come over to our house soon. And you should invite your brother too," she added flippantly, but it was clear that she'd deliberately not mentioned Heidi.

Alice pretended not to notice, but was grave with her answer. "We would love to come over – anytime. But Edward and Heidi are actually headed back to San Francisco next weekend." We all looked through the curved archway into the living room at the couple on the sofa who were clearly having a strained conversation. Jasper was conspicuously collecting dirty dishes while trying to ignore the drama unfolding around him. Angela's eyes caught mine, worriedly searching for my reaction to this news.

Before I could feel the pain engulf me, I stepped forward into the room and cleared my throat. "We're going now," I announced with as strong and clear a voice as I could summon. "It was nice to meet you, Heidi," I lied. "Edward…" my voice broke, but I pushed through it. "It was _good _to see you again. Goodbye." I turned quickly before they could respond and walked as quickly as I could down the hallway to the door without actually breaking into a sprint.

I somehow held it together on the ride home. I'd reconstructed the wall around my heart. The feeling of it was so familiar, so safe. Behind the wall I didn't have to feel anything; I could be alone. I could be invisible…at least for a little while.

As soon as Garrett's car pulled up to the curb in front of our house, I gave him a pithy hug and climbed down out of the car with a false promise to call him. My lack of feelings for him was one of the many revelations of the night. Though I knew that I shouldn't wait to tie up any lose ends, I had much more imminent worries weighing on my mind.

Unfortunately, Garrett didn't catch on to my subtlety. Tanya and Angela, their arms encircled around each other, murmuring hushed endearments, made their way slowly across the front yard when I heard the car door opening and slamming loudly behind me. I was already scrambling in the bottom of my purse for my keys when Garrett bashfully pulled up to my side, his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his pants.

I tried not to show my irritation as he shuffled his way into the house after me. Our relationship had always been easy in the past. We had very little expectations for each other, spending a small chunk of our weekend time together and then good-naturedly parting ways. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. I could depend on him when I needed someone to go to a party with or to one of the paper's many charity events. I did the same for him. He never pushed for more than I was willing to give him. I felt like we understood each other.

He was usually satisfied with a hug goodnight, but here he was following me inside like a lost puppy. I wanted nothing less than to be with him. I needed space to think, to stew in all my raw emotions. I was more than frazzled by his presence, but I was too polite to completely brush him off.

Tanya grabbed onto the belt loops of Angela's jeans as soon as we walked across the threshold and dragged her down the hallway toward their room. It was obvious what they were up to. I had noticed that Tanya had more than her share of Mojitos, slamming them back as fast as she normally drank Diet Coke. Since she was typically dramatic and effusive with her feelings, it wasn't always easy to tell when she'd reached her limit. She held her alcohol well, but it made her especially amorous with Angela and I'd discovered, loud in the bedroom.

"Did you want something to drink?" I offered Garrett to distract him from the slight rumbling noise coming through the wall.

"Beer?"

"Sure." I slipped into the kitchen, quickly snagging a bottle of beer from our well-stocked refrigerator. I had the top popped off and was returning to the living room as Garrett dropped heavily into the large amber colored couch that dominated the room.

I handed him the beer while I sat down at the other end of the couch, tucking my legs underneath me. Garrett glanced at me uneasily, his nerves setting me on edge. I was comfortable with his usual borderline cockiness; it kept us distanced and kept me from getting attached.

I shifted uncomfortably as my mind wandered in the silence, replaying moments from earlier in the night. I recalled how insecure Garrett had seemed, touching more than usual, holding my hand, trying to solicit and hold my attention. I caught his eye and looked at him with uncertainty.

"Bella, I realized something tonight," he admitted ardently, scooting closer to my corner of the couch.

"Huh," I mumbled in response, inwardly flinching. He slid even closer, placing his hand on my knee. His touch was hot, unwelcome. I wanted to recoil, but I held still, waiting for his words.

"I realized that I want us to be closer, to mean more to each other," he admitted. His words got muddled in my brain and before I could process them or respond, he launched himself toward me, his lips pressing forcefully against mine.

I turned my head, leaning as far away from him as I could as I tried to catch my breath. My hands flew to his chest, pushing him from me. It crossed my mind that his was the second chest I'd had my hands on that night, but nothing about his body felt right. His touch didn't ignite any feeling in me, except repulsion.

"Garrett…please," I said as I heaved his body from mine. "I can't do this right now."

He settled back against the couch, his brow furrowed. "Why can't I kiss you?" he asked angrily. "You're _my_ girlfriend."

"Garrett," I sighed heavily, pausing to gather my thoughts. "I don't know what to say," I hedged, not wanting to hurt him. I just didn't have the energy to face my feelings.

"Come on, Bella, we're good together. I've got lots of girls who would love to be in your position right now. I mean I'm not exactly desperate," he said, his tone belying his words. I had never heard him say anything quite so arrogant or so threatening and I wondered if I was ever really listening before.

"That almost sounds like an ultimatum…or a threat," I replied.

"No, I didn't mean it that way. I just wanted you to know that I've had offers, but I chose you. You're the one I want. You're smart, beautiful; you're the kind of girl a guy like me should have." He sighed heavily, his hands nervously tugging on his neck.

"But…you've always been so cold, so distant… untouchable. I never pushed. I was waiting for you to catch up…to thaw. To be honest, I've never really been in a relationship before you. I mean, it was all about the sex before. And no girl has made make me work so hard before. It's usually, you know, easier."

"Just because I have all the qualities you want in a girl doesn't mean that we're meant to be together."

"But we are," he exclaimed emphatically, grabbing my hand. "I could see that more than ever tonight. You were different. You seemed more alive than ever before…like you were glowing – radiant."

"And sexy," he added in a breathy voice, his tone changing. "You were sexy tonight. I've never wanted you more. I couldn't wait to get you home and to tell you that I think you're ready…ready for more," he said, pushing forward again, grasping me behind the head as he smashed his mouth to mine, thrusting his tongue between my lips.

I tried to push him away, wriggling my knees between us, but he kept his hold on my head, his wet mouth fervently slobbering over my bruised, chafed lips. His fingers began to twist in my hair as his knuckles ground into the base of my neck. I panicked, my stomach fluttering angrily.

Though I tried to yell at him, my verbal protest came out as a weak murmur as I mumbled against his frantic, violent kiss. I ignored the pain on my scalp as I fought him, digging my nails into his chest while I kneed him in the groin.

"Goddamn it Garrett! Stop it!" I screamed at him as soon as he bent over in pain and released me. My hand instantly went to my throbbing head where he'd ripped a handful of hair from the root. "What the fuck were you thinking?" I demanded, seething, my chest heaving with anger.

"I don't know. I don't know," he repeated, stumbling back, falling on the couch.

I heard a door open down the hall a few seconds before Angela emerged, a robe wrapped awkwardly around her long torso, her hair in wild tangles. She scanned the living room quickly, her eyes widening as she assessed the situation. Her eyes narrowed as she turned them on Garrett. "I think you should leave," she said in a flat tone.

Garrett's eyes shot to mine. He looked hurt, shamed even. I couldn't find the energy to care about how he was feeling. I just wanted him to leave.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice contrite. I shook my head at him. There was nothing I wanted to say.

Angela stood by my side as we listened to the front door close behind him. As soon as we heard his mammoth car come to life and drive away, she turned to me, pulling me into a hug.

"Baby, are you okay?" she asked maternally as I melted into her arms.

"Yeah, I'm okay." My words were muffled in the fabric of her robe.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She squeezed her arms tighter.

"Later. Not right now. I just…need a bath," I sighed as she released me, slumping my shoulders.

"Okay," she hesitated, but thankfully recognized that I wasn't ready to talk about everything that had happened yet. "We're just a door away. You can wake us up if you need anything. Well, you can wake up Tanya," she added with a smirk, already walking back down the hallway.

I practically ran to the bathroom, turning on the steamy water to fill the tub. "If you need to pee, do it now!" I yelled down the hallway, anxious to slip into the water, to do some deep thinking and to wash Garrett's touch and all my worries away. It didn't matter that it was my second bath of the day. I needed the release.

As I slipped into the scalding water, my pale skin instantly pinkened and I sighed contentedly. The second I allowed myself to relax, I couldn't stop memories from the night - both good and bad - from flooding my thoughts. And despite everything that had just happened with Garrett, and the tender spot on the back of my head, I didn't find myself sparing him much thought. Instead I allowed my mind to go where it most wanted - to Edward Cullen.

Even after all the years that had passed, he was still the most handsome man that I'd ever seen. And his eyes – they were just as intense, as expressive as I'd remembered them. He said so much with just a look and yet I desperately yearned for his words – for some sort of declaration of his feelings for me.

I could only imagine what might have been said or done in that short moment we'd had alone together in the hallway when he'd touched me, his soft, hot words caressing me, seducing me. If only we'd had just a few moments more, then perhaps I would know that there was some sort of future for us.

But, Edward was only in town for a week and then he would be absent from my life again. He wanted to see me, but what good would it do to reawaken and explore feelings that we could never act upon? He had a girlfriend; he lived in another city. How could fate be so cruel?

It took me so long to get over him last time, but then I was just a girl and now I was a woman. He could so easily hurt me again. And if he did, I'm not sure if I ever would recover. And yet, I couldn't stay away from him. If he asked me, I wouldn't hesitate to see him again. He owned my heart; he always had.

The water had long cooled when I finally pulled my body from the tub. As I dried myself, I looked at the girl in the mirror. She was different. _I_ was different. Seeing Edward again had changed me. I suddenly had a purpose that I hadn't even known had been missing. Edward was my purpose. I needed him. And I was resolved to fight for him. I wouldn't allow him to walk out on me this time.

**I hope it was worth the wait! I'm having review withdrawals – please help me with that!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: SM owns. Not me. **

**Thanks to ms. ambrosia as always who helps make this story so much better.**

**And thanks to all of you for your wonderful reviews. I wish that I could still respond to all of them, but I just don't have the time. I can't believe that we passed 50 on this last one! You guys are incredible!**

Wilting Lunch

"I don't know if she'll want to talk about it. And I really don't know what the fuck he was doing, but he had his hands on her and she was clearly upset." I had just caught the end of Angela's last heated statement to Tanya before I stepped into the room, my appearance immediately silencing my two roommates.

There was only a brief moment of guilty stares before Tanya took in my appearance. "You look like shit, honey," Tanya drawled as I shuffled out into the living room. She peered up quizzically at me over her giant mug full of steaming coffee.

"Gee thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Tonni," I replied, mimicking her surly tone as I slumped down into the sofa next to her.

"Even covered in mud you'd still be beautiful, Bella," Angela said sweetly, kissing me on the cheek as she slid down next to me. "But…you do look kind of worn out. You okay?"

Her voice was gentle, careful, as if she were talking to a child. Even though her heart was in the right place, I fought the urge to lash out at her. The night may have been emotionally wearing, but I refused to roll up in a ball and hide from my feelings like I would have done in the past.

"Yes, I'm fine," I answered, smiling unconvincingly.

"Fine? Fine! Oh, come on, Bella, you have to give us more than that," Tanya prodded. "Last night was just plain weird. Alice and Jasper were awesome, but there was so much tension and strange energy flying around the room that I was just waiting for a fight to break out or for someone to start crying or freaking out. If we had stayed any longer, I might have started screaming!"

"It wasn't that bad…was it?" I asked, realizing that I'd been so preoccupied with my own impressions that a lot of the evening was fuzzy in my mind. I was suddenly intensely interested to hear their perspective.

"Yes. It was. First of all, I don't know why you brought that blockhead boyfriend of yours. He's cute, but he's got too much testosterone and he's dull as a board. And he was all over you last night – grabby and touchy." Her eyes widened, challenging me to contradict her or to offer more information, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Edward is a lot like you described him," Angela added. "I thought you were exaggerating when you said that he was incredibly handsome, but he really is gorgeous. I'd love to photograph him."

My subconscious didn't care that Angela was a lesbian; I still prickled at her words. I felt irrationally possessive. I didn't want her noticing his beauty or taking photos of him.

"And he's so intense. I couldn't imagine having him for a doctor. I would have been struck stupid by those eyes of his. And by the way, he couldn't keep them off of you, Bella. Like you were something to eat. What's that about? And why is he with that scary bitch, Heidi? She's bad news," Tanya stated, loudly slurping her coffee.

"I don't know," I replied quietly, not wanting to consider why Edward was with Heidi. I'd actually purged her from my mind until Tanya brought her into the conversation.

"Edward didn't really seem into her," Angela offered gently, rubbing her hand down my arm. "Actually, everyone in the room seemed to be fixated on you for most of the night. It was like you were in heat or something."

"Angela!" I squealed, outraged and more than a little embarrassed.

"You can be as shocked as you want Bella, but what Angie said is true. I almost jumped on you myself last night. You must have been emitting pheromones or something," Tanya added flippantly, yawning. She placed her coffee cup on the end table and stood, stretching her arms above her head, indifferent that the movement caused her thin and tight white tank top to slide up her torso, revealing her midsection.

Never one to overlook an opportunity to show off her curvy body, she ran her fingers over her belly, dipping under the drawstring of the pajama pants that hovered low on her hips. "I'm hungry, baby," she purred at Angela, slowly dancing toward her, swinging her hips in a wide swath from side to side.

As she dipped forward toward Angela, I instinctively looked away. I didn't need to see them kiss or the way that they devoured each other with their eyes, their lust simmering, always ready to surface. My curiosity got the better of me and I raised my gaze to see Tanya tugging on Angela's braid, exposing her long neck.

"Mmm," Tanya moaned, running her nose along Angela's throat.

I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, immediately sobered by the blatant reminder of what was missing in my life. Angela, though enjoying the attention from her lover, caught my gaze over Tanya's shoulder and stilled, tilting her head and whispering something in Tanya's ear.

Tanya spun around, slinking back to the couch, and kneeled before me. Reaching out, she placed her hands on either side of my head, kissing me loudly and squarely on the mouth. "Someday you're going to figure out how special you are, Bella Swan," she stated plainly with a wide smile.

I smiled back at her, allowing her words to take shape in my mind, wrestling with the vague impression that I'd heard them before. I wasn't good at receiving compliments or at accepting praise, but her words left no space for argument. I filed them away to ponder another time.

"Alright, it's been fun girls, but it's time for me to hit the books," Tanya said, rising. "I promised my hunky thesis advisor that I'd have something new for him to look at next week. Bring me a bagel, baby?" she asked as she strutted away.

"Don't get distracted doing the New York Times Crossword again!" Angela yelled down the hallway at Tanya's retreating form. "I swear she's driving me crazy with this new obsession of hers," Angela admitted, taking Tanya's abandoned place on the couch next to me. "She's got a book of a thousand puzzles and keeps timing herself. She's close to beating the time of the kid that won the American Crossword Tournament last year."

"Don't pretend you don't love how passionate she is about things," I said, poking Angela lightly in the side.

"I know…you're right," she replied, grinning. "She is pretty amazing." She stood abruptly, reaching for my hand. "Come on, I have a bagel to make and you need some coffee," she announced as she yanked me from the couch. I followed her into the kitchen.

"Hey, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" Angela asked, angling her body toward me. I leaned against the counter as she pulled a couple of mugs from the cabinet above her and poured coffee from the pot into them.

"I know, Ang." I looked down at the oily surface of the black coffee while Angela shoved a bagel into the toaster. "I'm just…confused, I guess."

"Well, please don't tell me that you're confused about Garrett. He's…he's not right for you, you know?" She didn't wait for me to answer before continuing. "Did he…do anything last night…you know, to hurt you, Bella?" she gently prodded, murmuring under her breath.

I knew that she was dying to know what happened and that she was concerned, but I didn't want to talk about Garrett. I had already jumped ten steps ahead. In my mind, Garrett was already a mistake in my past. He may have left some bruises, but they were only on the surface. My feelings for him were so peripheral that I didn't want to waste any more energy worrying about him.

"Not really," I answered honestly, knowing that I wouldn't give him another opportunity to get so close to me again. In fact, his aggression toward me only made the decision to cut him from my life easier. "I don't plan on seeing him again…outside of work that is."

"Thank god! I wish you could find a guy like Jasper. He seems just about perfect…for a man."

"Yeah, Jasper is pretty much perfect," I agreed, thinking of his kind, cool blue eyes, the inked story woven across his muscular body. But the images faded quickly, instantly replaced by Edward's piercing, green gaze, his long, graceful fingers, his head full of perpetually mussed, touchable hair. All thoughts of Jasper were pushed to the background. I found myself completely lost in memories from the night before, causing my heart beat to accelerate, a rush of blood to surge through my veins.

Angela continued to complain about men and their shortcomings, particularly Garrett, but I hardly listened. I was reliving Edward's words to me in the hallway, trying to imagine what he meant by the look in his eyes, wondering when I could see him again. Angela continued to rant about the many drawbacks of testosterone and the pros and cons of having a penis as she spread a fat layer of cream cheese on Tanya's bagel, licking the excess off her fingers.

The shrill sound of my cell phone ringing from the other room thankfully interrupted her train of thought. I'd heard Angela's opinions on the male sex one too many times, so I took the opportunity to retrieve my phone and save myself from hearing it another time.

"Hello?"

"Bella? How are you?"

"Rose…I'm good. What's new?" I always instantly relaxed at the sound of Rose's calmly authoritative voice. In some ways, I was closer to her than Alice, and she had come to represent home for me. Like Charlie, she had rooted her way into my heart. And even from a distance, Rose had a way of getting directly to the core of my issues and forcing me to face them better than anyone else in my life.

"It's been a few days and I...I thought maybe you needed someone to talk to."

"What do you mean?" It was silent on the other end of the line for several long moments while I waited for her response.

"I uh…talked to Edward last night. He told me that he saw you," she prompted.

"What? Edward called you? When? What did he say?" I stuttered a string of questions at her while my brain tried to unscramble her words.

"He called me after you left Alice's house."

"Why?" I cried, feeling betrayed and exposed. "What did he say?" My emotions were churning as if in a boiling pot. I fought the urge to let them spill over and out.

"Bella, calm down, honey. He just told me that he saw you and that he thought you might need someone to talk to."

"I can't believe him!" I paced while I held my phone to my ear. "Does he think he's still my doctor…after all this time? What…is he worried about my mental health or something?" Did Edward think that I couldn't handle the deeply buried feelings that he'd stirred up in me last night? Was I so transparent? Did he still see me as the pathetic little girl that he abandoned?

I had thought that last night was a turning point for us. When he'd put his hand on my cheek it certainly had felt like a pivotal moment _to me_. Could I have misinterpreted the meaning of his touch, the feeling in his gaze? That he was simply trying to take care of me like he had in the past wounded me more acutely than if he'd completely ignored me.

"No, I think he…cares about you. He just wanted to make sure that you're okay. What happened? Did you…fight?" she asked gently.

"No…No! We didn't fight. It was fine. I don't know why he was worried. We just talked…"

"Well…how was it…seeing him again after all these years?" she asked carefully.

"It was fine," I answered sharply.

"Did you meet Heidi?"

"Yes," I answered, defeated, remembering her talons wrapped possessively around Edward's arm, her long, gangly legs, and her flat, milky gaze.

"And?"

"And what? What do you want me to say, Rose? That she was intimidating? That I didn't understand why Edward was with a girl like that? That she's all wrong for him?"

"Oh, really, how is she wrong for him?"

"She just is," I answered petulantly. "I mean, how can he want to be with her? She's so cold! How could she possibly know how to make him happy?"

"You mean like Garrett makes you happy?"

"That's different! I don't need Garrett to make me happy!" I bellowed into the phone, irritated.

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." She paused and I could hear her steady, calm breathing. I stopped pacing, lowering myself to sit on the edge of my bed.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I didn't mean to get so emotional."

"Sometimes it's good to get emotional. Actually, it's nice to hear you get passionate about something for a change. I think you need to embrace this side of yourself. Let go a little_. Feel. Feel deeply."_

"I do feel deeply," I snapped defensively. Her words stung. It was true that I'd been drifting through life just existing, trying not to make any waves. But it was too painful to admit it to Rosalie, to see myself through her eyes. Rosalie was the strongest woman I knew – tough as nails - while still being kind and generous and a wonderful mother. I admired and respected her; I valued her opinion almost above all others.

"Do you? Well…then show it! Embrace what you want, Bella. Life can just keep going on around you the same way it always has, or you can make a change. But you have to make it happen."

"How? How do I make it happen?" I had a vision of myself curled up next to Edward on a couch, my hand coiled around his bicep, my leg nestled next to his.

"I can't answer that; this is your journey. But I have so much confidence in you!" she said emphatically, her voice quivering with feeling. "You're so strong, Bella! Look what you've been through in your life. So many hardships…and you've always come out on top. I just wish you could see yourself clearly…the way others see you."

"But, what if I…"

"What?"

"I'm just so afraid of getting hurt," I admitted quietly, remembering how hard it was to recover when Edward left so many years ago.

"Aren't you hurting yourself by being afraid, by allowing life to slip you by? You have to believe that it's worth it to take a chance. You have to believe that you're worth it."

Several hours later, while getting ready for my lunch with Alice, Rose's words kept replaying in my mind, giving me courage. Seeing Edward again, the altercation with Garrett, Alice moving to town – all these things aligned in a fortuitous way to give me the push I needed to change my life.

I didn't have a plan, but I knew what I wanted. And I only had a week prove to Edward that we were meant to be together.

As I drove to the trendy café that Alice picked for lunch, I tried to focus my thoughts on Alice, but I couldn't concentrate on anything but Edward and wondering when I might find the opportunity to see him again.

When I pushed through the heavy wooden doors to the entrance of the restaurant, I was twittering with nervous energy. I scanned the open warehouse space, with its oriental rugs, mismatched furniture, and scattered antique, Victorian lamps for Alice, my mind spinning restlessly. Take it to Alice to choose such an unusual restaurant – both modern and remarkably cozy.

I finally spotted her in a dimly lit corner, waving excitedly at me, a wide smile on her face. As I got closer I noticed that she was dressed in her characteristic black with about a dozen bangles on her wrists, a ring on every finger.

Surprisingly, she wasn't wearing any make-up and when I sat down on the somewhat rickety chair across from her, I noticed the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks that were usually obscured by powder. She looked incredibly young and my heart tugged nostalgically at how much time had passed, that we'd lost.

"Don't be mad!" she blurted before I even placed my purse on the chair next to me. "I was really looking forward to spending this time together…just us. And I have so much to share with you," she said as if apologizing. She grasped my hands over the table, the bulkiest of her rings rubbing against my fingers.

Alice's hands unconsciously squeezed, tethering me in place while her eyes looked toward the front of the café as if searching for something. "I don't want you to think that I asked him to come with me, but he insisted. To be honest, I think he just wanted to an excuse to get away from Heidi," Alice rambled, unaware that I was fervently hanging on her words.

My stomach seemed to understand what she was saying before my brain was clued in. It fluttered anxiously as I mimicked Alice, my eyes searching the room for a shock of wildly messy hair, for the tall, perfectly-formed physique of the man who'd been constantly dominating my thoughts.

"Edward?" is all I could mutter.

"Yes, he just had to come. He literally forced himself on me. I made the mistake of telling him about our lunch date and he just showed up and followed me out to the car. I'm sorry," Alice said, clearly annoyed with her brother and truly apologetic. I tried hard not to reveal my delight and to look as distressed by her news as she was.

"It's okay, Alice," I said. "I don't mind." It was a massive understatement. I couldn't be more excited to see Edward again. I couldn't stop my eyes from wandering away from her face so that I could continue to scan the restaurant for him. Where was he?

I couldn't seem to make myself care that Alice's hands tightened around mine or that she was speaking to me in a low, tense voice that wavered in a hazy, indistinct way in the air between us. My entire body was on alert, willing Edward to me.

Just when I was beginning to feel the anticipation in my loins flood away disappointedly, the double doors at the entrance parted, allowing a stream of almost blinding sunlight to spill in from the outside. I gasped, overwhelmed by a flurry of conflicting emotions - shock, delight, hope – as Edward ducked into the dim interior space, his silhouette haloed in glowing, ethereal light.

He squinted, his eyes adjusting as he searched the restaurant eagerly. It only took a moment before his eyes found me, instantly warming. He smiled crookedly as he held my gaze, strutting forward until he stood at the edge of the table. He looked down at us with such genuine warmth that I found my body spiking with a longing for this man that was frightening in its intensity.

"Hello ladies," he said in greeting as he slid gracefully into the chair between us.

"Hi," I squeaked, my voice betraying my edginess. I felt steamrolled by Edward's presence; I wasn't yet prepared to see him.

Thankfully, at that moment, a waitress appeared, drawing the attention away from my awkward attempt to compose my nerves. She slithered her body up against the opposite side of the table from where Edward was just settling himself, wrestling a large shopping bag that I hadn't earlier noticed into the narrow space between our seats.

When he glanced up at her, she tilted her head flirtatiously, leaning into the table. She wore a long, tight, cream-colored cotton dress that contrasted stunningly with the mocha-colored hue of her skin, hugging the smooth angles of her body and leaving nothing to the imagination. It was open in the back, scooping low over her hips, and would have exposed too much skin, had her long, dread-locked hair not shielded her nakedness like a natural veil.

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet in front of Edward, unable to stop her forward motion toward him. I imagined stabbing her in the leg with my fork and then was instantly ashamed of thinking something so horrible and violent.

"Hi," she said breathily, rocking forward and back, forward and back, her pencil hanging forgotten from her fingers.

"_Hi!" _Alice snarled with irritation, slapping her hand on the table in front of her so that the warped, motley flatware clanged noisily.

"Oh, um, can I get you a drink?" the waitress asked generally, startled from her stupor, but her eyes were still fixed on Edward.

He was oblivious to the attention, his hands digging into the bag at his feet. Alice and I ordered iced teas while we all waited for Edward to respond. He didn't even glance up at the attentive face of our waitress when he mumbled, "Yeah, I'll have the same."

As soon as the waitress sauntered away to fill our drink orders, Alice turned to Edward. "What are you doing?"

Finally, Edward straightened with a small box in his hand which he triumphantly placed in front of his sister. "I see you're still the most patient sister in the world," he said with sarcasm. Alice's eyes widened in surprise as she picked up the small package, her eyes warming as she returned Edward's gaze.

"On my way back from parking the car, I passed an interesting-looking shop and took a look. I might have purchased a few things," he explained sheepishly. "Go ahead and open it," he prodded, nudging her arm playfully.

Without another thought, Alice whipped the top off the box and gasped at the large necklace tucked tightly into the cotton beneath it. It was a brilliant hunk of polished amber, set in a delicate oval of silver. She pulled the necklace from the box, dangling it from its silver chain in front of the light so that she could see it better.

"There's something in it," she claimed, squinting at the stone.

"Yes, there's a small spider fossil encased inside. It's supposed to be a rare piece of amber. The bug means good luck."

"It's incredible! I love it!" Alice squealed, jumping up to wrap her arms around Edward's neck while she kissed him on the cheek. For a brief moment I was jealous of her; I wished that I had an excuse to embrace him, that I could place my lips against his cheek.

I noticed the small shadow of stubble along Edward's jawline as Alice pulled away, plopping down in her chair. I tore my eyes away from him as Alice positioned the necklace around her neck, her artist fingers deftly refastening the clasp and settling the large pendant in the middle of her chest.

"How's it look?" Alice asked, beaming.

"It's lovely," I said, thinking what a thoughtful and fitting gift it was. The amber was one-of-a-kind, unique and irreplaceable - just like Alice.

Alice was still reveling in her gift, her hand fluttering at her chest, when our waitress returned with our drinks, her eyes and body still attuned uncomfortably toward Edward. She pulled her notepad from a small apron at her waist as she awkwardly wedged her narrow body between my chair and Edward's. She squeezed forward, her sandaled feet crumpling the bag Edward had placed on the floor.

"Excuse me," Edward said, trying to salvage the bag from under her toes, sparking my curiosity and making me wonder what other things Edward might have purchased. I imagined that he probably brought something for Heidi. She was his girlfriend, after all…

"Oh, uh, sorry." The flustered waitress stumbled back to the other side of the table, hastily taking our orders and shuffling quickly away in embarrassment.

"I'm gonna hit the restroom. I'll be right back," Alice declared as soon as our waitress withdrew. She stood, hustling toward a dark corner of the vast room, leaving Edward and I alone.

Now that I finally had him to myself, I felt my old insecurities return. For several long seconds I couldn't even look at him, though I felt his eyes on me. But then I remembered that things were different now. Rosalie's words from earlier in the day rose to the surface of my mind, pregnant with renewed meaning. I was resolved to take a risk - to risk my heart, and to reach out and grab what I wanted.

I lifted my gaze and the instant our eyes met, Edward broke into the sweetest, warmest smile I had ever seen on him. It was a smile that transformed his entire face – his cheeks, the ridges around his eyes, even his forehead crinkled in happiness. "Bella…" he muttered on the cloud of a breath.

I was so enamored with the new sparkle in his green eyes, intoxicated by his proximity, that I didn't notice that he'd placed another gift box on the table. With a deep, almost nervous breath, he slid it toward me so that it was square on my placemat.

"I got something for you too, Bella," he whispered, the look on his face uncertain. My heart lurched at this rare glimpse of vulnerability and I instantly longed to put him at ease.

I returned his smile, my fingers trembling as I tilted the lid off the box. "Oh," I inhaled sharply, my hand springing to my mouth unconsciously.

I peeled back the floral tissue to reveal an incredibly well-crafted, pale grey, suede journal with a black, gnarled tree embossed on the front. The cover was downy and soft, but the paper was textured and thick, with irregular edges. As I twisted the beautiful book around in my hands a placeholder slipped from the pages – a tiny, silver owl with obsidian eyes, dangling from the binding by a leather thong.

"Edward, it's…beautiful," I exclaimed. I clutched it to my chest. It was perfect, thoughtful, and entirely unexpected.

"I couldn't resist. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you," he explained.

"You didn't have to -" I started, but he interrupted.

"I wanted to," he whispered, his voice sultry and deep, causing my stomach to flip and flutter.

I opened my mouth as to respond but I couldn't think of what to say. I selfishly wanted to keep the journal, but I wasn't sure what motivated Edward to give it to me. On one level, the gift confused me and I worried that it meant something more to me than to Edward. But in a moment of strength, I pushed that doubt to the background, allowing myself to believe the sincerity in his words and accept the gift without protest.

"Thank you. So much," I mumbled as I rewrapped the book in the tissue and slid it into my purse. Just as Edward placed the empty box in the bag at his feet, Alice returned.

"What was that?" she asked curiously.

"I bought Bella a new journal," Edward told her without pause. Alice broke into a genuine smile, her hand clasping her brother's.

"That's so thoughtful, Edward," she said as she reached out to grab my hand also.

I looked down at our linked hands, Alice's small fingers cool and strong. I nearly jumped in surprise when Edward's warm, calloused fingers slipped around my other hand, connecting our three bodies in a triangle of space.

I looked from Alice and back to Edward whose eyes were already on me. I heated instantly with the realization that he'd been watching me. I could feel the blush rise from my chest to my ears, but I didn't look away like I might have done in the past. His grip tightened slightly as I inhaled deeply.

I was still aware of Alice's presence, but I couldn't look away from Edward. As I held his gaze, I noted the small changes in his face, in his manner. His brilliant green eyes cast a different glow; they weren't smoldering with fire, but simmered tamely. I couldn't help but openly marvel at the change in him.

I'd lost sense of time. I wasn't sure how much time had passed or how long we'd been trapped in one another's gaze when the thrall that had captured our minds was abruptly broken all at once by several things. First, our waitress appeared with our food and Alice relaxed her hands, releasing our fingers. In the very next moment, before our plates were even on the table, Edward's phone rang.

We all startled at the sound, the harsh ring reverberating loudly against the concrete walls of the restaurant. Edward's brow furrowed when he looked at the screen. He didn't bother to hide his scowl as he answered his call.

With a brief look of apology, he shifted back in his chair, his voice taking on a low, frustrated tone as he spoke into the receiver. I didn't even try to pretend that I wasn't listening, ignoring the hearty looking salad greens on the plate in front of me.

"I thought you were going to go see Jean…" He pushed his hand through his hair, making the strands twist wildly on his head, a wayward piece falling across his forehead.

Alice leaned in, her lips at my ear. "It was just a matter of time before she tracked him down. It's like snapping a leash," Alice whispered angrily. "I don't get it," she said through clenched teeth, more to herself than to me.

"I'm with my sister," Edward practically growled into the phone. "You said you were going to be busy. I wouldn't do that…no…no…I can't…" Edward wouldn't meet my eyes as he listened to the squeaking sounds coming from his phone, looking purposefully away toward the door as though plotting an escape route. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought that he wished to leave, that he wanted to get back to _her_.

"I know what I said…I know I promised… Yes, I meant it!" Edward cried into the phone and I realized with a burst of hope and a smidgen of guilt that perhaps things weren't going so well with Heidi.

"Heidi," he sighed wearily. "Well, I'll try…okay, okay, I'll be there," he finished abruptly, sliding his phone in his pocket.

His face was anguished when he turned back to the table. He ran his long fingers through his hair again, almost strangling the strands with the tense movement. "I'm so sorry," he murmured under his breath. "I've got to go."

"What do you mean?" Alice asked, her face reddening in anger.

"Please, Alice, can we just get our lunches to go?" he asked. He didn't wait for her answer, but stood, pushing his chair back noisily. He strutted toward the counter at the front of the restaurant with determination.

"I can't believe this. I knew I should have left him at home. We didn't even get to talk," Alice pouted, but I could see in the grimace on her face that her anger was escalating rapidly.

"Don't be upset, Alice. I'm sure it's something important or Edward wouldn't do this," I said with conviction, protecting Edward from Alice's ire.

"I'm not so sure," she growled under her breath as Edward returned with three square cardboard take-out containers. Alice snatched a box from Edward and began to vigorously scoop clumps of rice and braised tofu into it. Edward and I followed suit – he carefully packaging up his salmon burger while I unceremoniously dumped my already wilting salad into my box.

I began to pull my wallet out of my purse, looking for our waitress when Edward stopped my movement. "I already took care of lunch, Bella. It's the least I could do," he said, allowing his hand to drift down from my arm to my wrist where he momentarily tangled his pinky finger with mine. I closed my eyes as he pulled it away, feeling as if he'd taken a part of me with him.

A few minutes later, I found myself standing on the sidewalk outside next to Alice's car. Alice was still bristling at Edward. I had to admit that I was glad I wasn't riding home with them. Alice hesitated to say goodbye, while Edward lingered by the passenger side of the car, agitated and anxious to leave.

"I don't know what's going on, but I'm pissed. We still need to talk," Alice whispered as she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

"Don't worry, Alice. It was short, but sweet," I said, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Goodbye Bella," Edward said as he opened the door and folded his long frame into Alice's car. Alice huffed, circling around the front of the car and lowering herself inside behind the steering wheel.

I stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, balancing the box with my untouched salad in my arms as Alice turned the key in the ignition, firing up the engine. Before they pulled away from the curb, Edward rolled the window down and peered out at me like he wanted to say something.

I smiled at him reassuringly and held my breath, but he didn't speak. His edge of his mouth curled as though he was attempting to smile, but his expression was hollow and forced and left me feeling empty inside. As the wheels rotated, squeaking, and the car maneuvered out into the street, Edward kept his eyes on me.

The car slowly moved into the distance, and I began to turn away, but at the last moment, I caught one last glimpse of Edward. He'd dropped the façade of happiness, his smile turning into a grimace. His whole demeanor seemed utterly transformed by sadness.

I shuffled down the sidewalk in a daze, barely recognizing where I was going. All I could think of was the look on Edward's face. I knew that in some way, I was responsible for his pain. A small part of me was relieved that he was as hurt and confused as I was. But a bigger part of me knew that without hesitation, I would do anything to keep him from hurting. And for the first time ever, I felt stronger than him, and I wished that I could give him some of my strength.

Because I recognized the look on his face; I had seen it in the mirror before. And I couldn't get the fear out of my head that he was not just suffering, but broken.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: SM owns everything Twilight. I am infinitely thankful to her for sharing her characters with me. I can't believe that after all this time I still find them so inspiring.**

**In this chapter we start to learn a little more about Edward and his recent past. Some questions will be answered. But not all of them…not yet. Please stick with me through this slow burn, we are really getting to the good stuff soon. And after the sometimes painfully gradual buildup I believe it will be all the more satisfying. **

**Thanks to ms. ambrosia, my ever-faithful beta. I've learned so much from her!**

**Without any further unnecessary babbling, let's get to it…**

I sat behind the flimsy walls of my cubicle the next day, staring blankly at my computer screen. Never in my life had I been so distracted. My thoughts were such a jumbled mess of needs and fears and what ifs that there wasn't room for anything else.

I couldn't remember if I'd brushed my teeth this morning or if turned off the coffee machine. When I'd gotten to work that morning, I'd sat in my car for several minutes, my hands wringing the steering wheel, wondering how I'd ending up in the parking lot when I couldn't recall a single moment of the drive.

I hoped that I could escape notice and hide in my tiny workspace all day. I felt like everything in my life had changed and I needed time to comprehend just how it was different, just how _I_ was different.

Even though I had the entire night before to devise some sort of plan for capturing Edward's affection, I instead spent the time fantasizing about what life would be like if he were mine. Though I couldn't help thinking of his hands on my body, his lips on my neck, and my fingers running through his hair like I'd done years before, most of my fantasies weren't sexual in nature.

I'd imagined us picnicking on the beach, embracing in the water, walking hand in hand down the shoreline. I saw us sitting on a couch, watching television together, sharing a blanket. I saw me feeding Edward a piece of dessert off of my plate, his lips closing around my fork. I saw us walking down the sidewalk, holding hands.

These images still lingered in my mind, disrupting my ability to function normally. I probably should have taken a mental health day, but I was honestly too distracted to even think of it.

It was a new day and I should have been working on my next article that I'd already researched and outlined on an organic honey farm located in the foothills of the Cascade Mountain Range. My article was to focus on the recent attention the farm was receiving for the medicinal salves they made out of a combination of their honey and Chinese herbs. It was sure to be an appropriately winsome and diverting piece, hardly groundbreaking news.

Initially, I'd planned on writing a piece on a local well-known Seattle businessman who was under federal investigation for smuggling 3200 drums of honey into the US from China, some of which was tainted with banned antibiotics. A friend of Angela's worked at the company that distributed the honey and gave her a tip on the story.

When I'd approached my editor with the information I'd gathered, he immediately gave the story to one of the senior writers. My honey farm story was intended to be a small companion piece to the real news; fluff to take the edge off the darker side of reality.

It wasn't the first time that one of my ideas had been appropriated and it probably wouldn't be the last. My feathers were a little ruffled, but I didn't make too much of a stink over it. It's just what happened in journalism and I'd grown to accept the way the industry worked.

And yet, whether it was a welcome thought or not, Garrett's description of my role at the paper came to my mind. Was I too complacent? Perhaps I should get angry and make demands.

But I just didn't care enough to be angry. I should have been thinking of bees and salves and farms, but I just continued to find my mind returning to Edward and worrying about when I would see him again. I didn't have much time and the urgency was burning a hole in my stomach.

In fact, I hadn't been able to eat this morning. I'd unenthusiastically pulled out my leftovers last night, nibbling on a few pieces of limp lettuce, but I couldn't remember having eaten anything since then.

My stomach roiled and rumbled angrily in emptiness. I reluctantly abandoned the questionable safety of my cubicle and darted toward the break room in search of something to fill the void in my belly.

I delved into my change purse as I hurriedly crossed the room, rattling the coins in my fingers. I was hoping to have enough to buy some crackers from the vending machine. Unfortunately, the machine's selection was unpredictable, seemingly restocked on an entirely random basis. You never knew what would be available to buy.

I sped around the corner, my fingers crossed hopefully. My spirits fell instantly as I scanned the rows of empty springs. The only two items available were a flat, suspicious-looking pastry, called a _Big Texas Cinnamon Roll_, and a package of tragically crumbled vanilla sandwich cookies. I counted my change and I had ninety-three cents. The pastry cost eight-five cents, the cookies a whole dollar.

Even I wasn't hungry enough, or brave enough, to try the pastry. I was looking longingly at the cookie crumbles and was about to start banging on the machine when the last person I wanted to see walked into the break room.

"Bella?" Garrett said as he took in my appearance. He seemed shocked – almost frightened – to have bumped into me, noticeably stepping a few paces away. I looked down at my shoes, mentally struggling to find the words that I knew I needed to say.

Garrett mumbled something incoherently, forcing my eyes to his face. "Huh?" I asked as I met his gaze, slumping back against the vending machine behind me.

"Did you want to borrow some money? You know, for the machine," he asked pointing.

"Oh, okay," I agreed hesitantly, accepting the dollar bill from his outstretched fingers. I shifted away from him for a few tense moments while I tried to wrestle the crinkled bill into the machine. My hands were clumsy as I pondered why is it that even when you're avoiding the things that you think you can't handle, the universe has a way of throwing them in your face?

The bill finally slipped into the metal mouth of the machine when I felt Garrett's hand on my shoulder. I flinched, shrugging him off as I bent down to retrieve my package of cookie crumbles.

"Bella, come on, you know I'm uh, sorry, you know, for the other night. I got carried away."

"Carried away?" I snapped back at him, his pathetic apology fueling my anger.

"Come on, how can you blame me? Sure I was a little forceful, but you drove me to it," he whispered fervently, stepping closer so that I was pinned between his body and the vending machine. I scowled at him incredulously, Mike Newton's face bursting its way into my memory. I fought the panic that threatened to sweep over me at the unwelcome reminder of a weaker version of myself. He raised his hand towards my face as if to touch me. I reacted instinctually, swatting him away. I pushed on his chest, wriggling away.

"Do you want to do this now?" I hissed at him like a cat backed into a corner.

"I think we need to make some changes in our relationship, Bell-a," he said pompously, stretching out my name. I wondered how I never noticed before how squeaky his voice was. I hated the way he made my name sound like a patronizing taunt.

"We don't have a relationship, Garrett. We never did. We had an arrangement. But now that's over," I said, taking a few long strides toward the doorway. I was just about to escape when his hand reached out and latched onto my arm. I stumbled backwards, shaking him off of me.

When I turned back to him, his expression had lost some of its cockiness. I was surprised that he actually seemed wounded and felt a tug of guilt for speaking so harshly.

"You said it before, Garrett; I can't give you what you need." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt an immediate sense of relief.

"Why? What's wrong with you?" The words were like a slap to the face. I resisted the urge to defend myself. I was done. I was _so_ done. I didn't want to waste another minute of my life.

Without another word, I stormed out of the break room, back toward my cubicle with the package of cookies clutched tightly in my fist. I could feel the adrenaline fueling my steps, empowering me as the distance between Garrett and I expanded.

I sucked in a deep, calming breath, wringing out the tremors in my hands as I dropped down into my chair. I was just about to rip into the plastic seal around my less than appetizing snack when a head poked around the corner, interrupting me.

"Guess what, Bella?" squealed Bree, one of our many interns at the paper. "Check it out," she demanded, holding up a large bouquet of gerbera daisies.

"Pretty," I said flatly, already turning away from her. I generally avoided office gossip and I was annoyed that she was attempting to pull me into some discussion about who the flowers were for and the obvious speculation about who had sent them.

I could sense that she was still standing at the entrance to my cubicle and was preparing to politely ask her to leave when she placed the vase of colorful flowers down on my desk. "Aren't you even curious who sent them?" she asked, digging the card out from the center of the arrangement.

My brain had slowed to the speed of molasses. My mouth dropped open. She held the card in front of me, waiting. I read the slanted handwriting on the outside of the envelope, "_Bella Swan."_

"Thanks," I mumbled at her, swiveling in my chair for privacy. I waited until I heard the retreating click of her high heels before I opened the envelope.

My fingers trembled as I ripped into the paper. It one swift movement I pulled the small white card out of the envelope and flipped it over. I read the printed words three times before they began to sink in.

"_Please forgive me for yesterday. You've been on my mind constantly. Please tell me that you'll see me again before I have to leave. Yours, Edward."_

I reread the words again, analyzing each sentence. Why had I been on his mind? What kinds of things was he thinking about me? And even though he mentioned that he wanted to see me again, he did so with the reminder that our time together was limited. He would be leaving soon. Too soon.

I must have spent several minutes musing over the way that he finished the letter. "_Yours, Edward_," he signed. Why did this thrill me so? In what way was he mine?

I'd been staring at the little paper card in my hand for several minutes when I decided that I wasn't going to get any work done. I shut down my laptop and shoved it into my bag next to my new journal.

Just a quick glance at the leather book sent my heart fluttering. With a burst of inspiration, I pulled the journal from my bag, opening it to the first crisp page of blank paper. I ran my fingers reverently along the surface of the flat plane, pondering all the possibilities in the blank, empty space, all the ways in which I could fill these pure, untarnished pages.

Unlike the difficulty that I was having writing the article that I was supposed to be working on, as soon as I snapped the cap off of my favorite pen, the words tumbled from my brain. As the tip of the pen clutched tightly in my hand scurried across the paper, I didn't once stop to consider the reasons for what I was writing. Within seconds, a sloppy, but heart-felt list began to take shape, giving a flimsy kind of structure to the chaos of my thoughts.

My fascination and obsession with writing lists actually started in Edward's group therapy sessions. Though he'd assigned us the task of writing a "trust list" to help us better understand our relationship with our parents, the process grew to mean something even broader for me. I'd elaborated the idea for my own purposes throughout the years, writing lists to explore and organize so many aspects of my life and my psyche.

Of course I wrote lists of chores, grocery lists, and appointments. But I also composed lists of the books I wanted to read, movies I wanted to see, places I wanted to go, and of the books I wanted to write. I wrote lists of things I hated, things I loved, things I wanted to change. I had full pages of fears, hopes, and my plans for the future.

So when I opened the first page of my new, beautiful journal, I started a new list. It wasn't a hard list to write. Sparing a moment to think of how deep and private my thoughts were, I paused before writing "_Things I Love about Edward,"_ in slanted letters across the top. I underlined the title with a squiggly line and started a numbered inventory of all of the characteristics that made Edward the most perfect man.

Sexy hair – I want to run my fingers through it, tug on it, wash it

Beautiful hands – I want to hold them in mine always

His voice – the way my name sounds when he says it

Eyes Eyes Eyes - oh god

His heart – he's beautiful inside and out

His mystery – there is so much he doesn't say

Something indefinable when he touches me – chemistry – he's magnetic, electric

The list would have certainly run on and on but my lingering hunger finally could not be ignored, so I closed my pen, shoving the journal to the side of my desk. It lay there like a shrine to my feelings, a symbol of what I didn't have. My juvenile list, rather than easing my mind like my lists so often did, only heightened my frustration.

I dropped my head forward onto my arms despondently, trying to think of what my next step would be. I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. I could work on my article at home later, but I needed, with every tiny atom in my body, to find Edward as soon as possible and talk to him. But even as I came to this realization my stomach grumbled angrily at me, and I knew that I had to get out of the office and take care of my bodily needs first.

I placed the card from the flowers into the middle of the journal and repacked all my things, happily leaving the package of cookies behind. I turned the corner, heading for the exit, when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Bella Swan works here, correct?" I heard from my hiding spot around the corner from the reception desk that Bree was currently manning.

"Um…oh, uh, yes," she stammered. I slammed my back against the wall, as tremors of anticipation attacked my limbs. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my racing heart, and willing my flushed cheeks to cool before I turned the corner.

"Her cubicle is just this way," Bree added and I could hear her shuffling as she got to her feet.

I knew my time was up, and I pushed away from the wall, straightening my skirt, and nervously tucking my hair behind my ears. I was hoping I appeared more composed than I felt. I peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of Edward and inadvertently slammed right into Bree. She teetered precariously on her high heels, flapping her hands out in front of her in an attempt to regain her balance. Edward and I both reached out at the same time, each of us grabbing an arm to prevent her from falling.

Bree giggled and blushed, shrugging off my hand to grasp Edward's arm with both hands. She clutched him much longer than necessary as she babbled off, thanking him profusely for his help. Even though I understood Edward's attraction and her reaction to him, I still fought the urge to give her a little shove, enough to send her stumbling again.

When Edward's gaze quickly shifted from hers to mine, I was thankful that I didn't succumb to my baser instincts. He clearly wasn't affected at all by Bree's attention; his eyes were solely focused on me.

"Hi Bella," he said, smirking at the humor of the situation.

"Edward," I murmured shyly.

Bree instantly dropped her hand when she perceived that she was no longer receiving any notice, dejectedly scuffling back around the corner to her desk. I simply stared at Edward for a few moments, relishing the fact that he was actually in front of me, as if I'd willed him to come. He seemed to be mirroring my exact actions, as if equally delighted to find himself standing before me.

"You're here," I whispered, breaking the spell of the moment.

"Yes. I thought that I could take you to lunch."

I didn't hesitate to respond. "I'd love that."

"Good," he said, smiling.

"Did you notice that it just got kind of quiet?" Edward asked, looking over my shoulder. I glanced at the room behind me to find at least half the staff in the office looking curiously in our direction, craning their necks over and around the walls of their cubicles to witness our conversation. As I scanned their faces, many of them snapped to action, scrambling to appear busy, while a few remained blatantly staring.

Before I turned back toward Edward I noticed Garrett standing at the edge of the hallway, his face a blank mask. I didn't give him another thought as I shifted my focus and looked up into Edward's eyes. "I'm ready."

"Me too," he said as we walked side by side toward the front doors. Edward held open the swinging door to allow me to go through first, placing his hand on my lower back to usher me through. As soon as we were on the other side of the doors he reached out for my hand, lacing his fingers with mine as if it was natural, as if it was the way we'd always walked together.

I hardly felt my feet touch the ground as we exited the building. And though I wanted to remember every moment I spent with Edward, I was so overcome by the tingling thrum of energy pulsing through my body from where our hands connected that I hardly registered the walk to his waiting rental car.

"Is this your car?" I asked, my mouth hanging open.

"It's just a rental," he shrugged. He slipped his hand out of mine slowly, his fingertips clinging to mine as if he was reluctant to sever our physical connection. I curled my fingers inward in response, hanging on as long as I could.

"You can rent these?" I asked as he opened the door to the sleek silver sports car, its aerodynamic curves hinting at its power and speed.

"Yep," Edward replied as we both settled in our seats. "Wasn't my choice," he muttered under his breath.

"What it is?"

"It's an Aston Martin…a Vanquish."

"Somehow, I never pictured you in a car like this," I admitted, taking in the elegant curve of the instrument panel, the masculine smell of the leather seats.

"Really? What kind of car did you imagine me driving?" He asked as he programmed an address into the car's navigational system.

"Um, I don't know. Like a Volvo or something."

"I actually do have a Volvo," he said chuckling.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"I heard of a place I'd like to try. It's a surprise, okay?"

"Sure. That sounds great," I replied, thinking that I would go anywhere with Edward. If he wanted to drive all the way to Mexico for tacos I'd be perfectly content to go along.

Silence fell upon us and I felt the weight of unsaid words between us. I couldn't stop myself from glancing at Edward's profile, his strong jaw peppered with a fine layer of hair. I longed to reach over and touch it, to caress the stubble, run my fingers along his cheek and down his neck. My eyes followed the line of his lean, muscular arms, down to his hands, his long, artistic fingers wrapped confidently around the steering wheel as he drove.

I blushed at my thoughts, crossing my thighs over one another as I writhed nervously in the leather seat. The atmosphere in the car was thick with tension and I felt an intense need to break the silence. I inhaled deeply, searching my thoughts for a neutral topic that would give me the courage to speak.

"Thank you for the flowers, Edward. They were so beautiful," I finally said, relieved.

"You liked them?" he seemed surprised.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I didn't know what kind of flower you'd like. You don't seem like the roses type. And I didn't think you'd want lilies. But daisies…they're bright, beautiful, unpretentious. They seemed perfect."

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to," he interrupted, turning his head to look into my eyes for a brief, meaningful moment.

"We're here," he announced. I looked out the window to see that we were parked in front of a renovated warehouse in the historical district of Seattle, the name of the restaurant painted in fat bold whimsical lines on the front window.

"The Walrus and the Carpenter? I've always wanted to eat here!"

"Really? Great," he said, the relief evident in the tone of his voice.

I felt a surge of delight that he'd put some thought into what I might like. He seemed intent on pleasing me. For an instant I felt doubt, as if I didn't deserve his effort, but I quickly squashed that thought. Rose's words popped into my head and I clung to them, forcing myself to believe that I deserved to be happy. That sharing this time with Edward was worth the risk of getting hurt.

I was still peering into the window when Edward joined me, slipping his hand easily into mine again. I wanted to know what he meant by the gesture, while at the same time, I didn't want to question it. I pushed it from my mind, enjoying the attention and the excited rush that surged through my body.

It was early afternoon and the restaurant wasn't busy. There were only a few other couples tucked into the corner tables when we entered. I immediately felt comfortable in the intimate setting, with its long wooden tables, crammed one on top of the other in the small room. Despite the large, unique white chandelier, hanging conspicuously from the ceiling, dominating the room, the many framed mirrors on the white walls made the space appear larger.

The male host greeted us with little interest, leading us to a quiet table near the window. As soon as he handed us our menus and disappeared, Edward leaned across the table and took my hand in his. It seemed like he wanted to be touching at all times, like he'd been freed from restraint, allowing himself to act on his feelings for me for the first time.

I couldn't deny that I knew he felt something for me. His eyes couldn't shield his feelings. I always wanted to believe…hoped that this day would come. Now that we were here, touching publicly, staring into each other's eyes, I didn't know how to act, what to say. I just continued to stare dreamily at him, my memories and dreams colliding, and blending with the present.

The waiter came to our table with waters and to take our orders but neither one of us had yet looked at the menu. Edward stopped rubbing circles on the palm of my hand with his thumb to quickly look over the tall papers in front of him. Snatching my hand back into his, he quickly ordered a large appetizer plate with a selection of oysters from the oyster bar and a bottle of French wine.

When the waiter turned to me, I added salmon tartar with a loaf of French bread to our order. My mouth actually began to salivate at the thought of food. Just being with Edward made me feel lightheaded and giddy, but the fact that I was starving only exacerbated the dizzying surrealism of the moment.

When we were again alone, Edward resumed rubbing my hand with his thumb. I sensed that he wanted to initiate our conversation and I waited patiently, watching as his face went through a series of emotions. He swallowed thickly, licking his lips, his hand squeezing as he prepared to speak.

"I need to tell you some things…some things about my life." His eyes shifted away from mine briefly and I could see that the mood had shifted. Tension grew around us, our hands both stiffened. I couldn't help but react to the worry in his eyes. I was afraid for my heart; I'd laid myself so open. I felt vulnerable, afraid of what he might say.

I pulled my hands to my lap defensively. They began to tremble, as if missing Edward's touch.

His hands too seemed nervous without mine to hold, as if they no longer had a purpose. He ran one hand through his hair; the other fingered his butter knife, rubbing unconsciously along its shiny edge.

"My life has become unnecessarily complicated in the last few years…in ways that I could never have predicted. I look back now and see how I could have done things differently, but at the time – well, I just was too distracted to think clearly. I wish…I wish that I'd made better choices."

"You're being a little cryptic, Edward. What happened?" As he spoke I began to realize that he was about to give me the clarity that I wanted, that he was going to poke a giant hole in the wall that he'd built between us when he'd left. I was frightened to know the truth, but exhilarated too. And so curious that I unintentionally scooted to the end of my seat, leaning in toward him.

"I know that we need to talk about why I left," he said quietly, not meeting my gaze. "But first, I need to tell you about Heidi and what happened." My heart clenched at the mention of her name and all at once I felt a great divide open between us. I pushed the fear away, willing him with my eyes to continue. I had to know just what I stood against, what obstacles I – or we - would have to face.

"Bella," he said questioningly as he stood from his chair. "I can't stand to feel so distant from you. I just need to be closer," he explained as he sat into the chair directly next to me, scooting it closer so that our knees were touching. He grabbed onto my hands, pulling them into his lap.

"Is this okay?" he asked me.

"Yes, Edward," I replied, nearly rendered speechless by the close proximity. I wondered if he could read the adoration in my expression.

"When I left Forks, I felt so lost. I didn't really have a plan and I didn't know where to go. I just knew that if I didn't get away I might give into…I might do something that I would regret. You have to understand that I began to question everything about myself – my integrity, my sense of ethics. I had no faith in my abilities as a doctor. I wondered if I should even continue in that path."

"You were a wonderful doctor. You helped me so much," I reassured him passionately, but I could see that my words didn't make a dent in quelling his own feelings of inadequacy.

"As soon as I left, Carlisle got on the phone and started making phone calls to friends and colleagues, cashing in old favors to find me somewhere to finish my residency. I was already in California when he found me a position at the UC San Francisco Medical Center. Without another plan of my own, I headed in that direction. I spent only a week at the hospital when I realized that I couldn't, in good conscience, continue in the path I was on.

"I wasn't sleeping or eating. I found myself wandering around the city after my long shifts. I walked through Chinatown, up and down along North Beach and down to the Embarcadero. One late night shift, I found myself watching the sunrise from one of the piers down by the yacht harbor. I was thinking of you, Bella. Of how I felt like I'd left a part of me behind in Forks."

He squeezed my hand. "I missed you so much," he admitted, his eyes closing. I took a moment to notice how long and dark his eyelashes were as they fluttered against his pale eyelids.

Just then the waiter came with our wine and a loaf of French bread in a wire basket. Edward reluctantly dropped my hands, turning to acknowledge the waiter. While the wine was poured into our glasses, I took the opportunity to snag a hunk of bread, barely chewing it before swallowing.

As soon as the waiter disappeared Edward grasped my closest hand, leaving me the other one to eat and drink with. We both took a sip of the wine.

"Mmm, it's good," Edward declared, the wine staining his lips. I stared at his mouth as his tongue darted out to lick the residue from his upper lip. He caught me looking and returned my gaze with such intensity and passion that heat pulsed from my chest to flush across my face and down my arms.

"Bella no one…no one has ever made me feel the way you do." I gasped, holding back the emotion that welled inside of me. I'd suspected he had feelings for me, I'd hoped that he had, but to hear the words from his lips was sublime.

"Me too," I muttered. "I mean, I feel the same," I admitted, feeling like a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders with the confession.

I could have looked into Edward's smoldering eyes for hours but we were interrupted again by our food arriving, one small platter with the salmon and one huge platter filled with a variety of oysters floating in their shells. Even though I was starving and the food looked delectable, I would have been content just to hold Edward's hand and to be near him all night.

But the food was tempting, and when Edward released my hand, we both tore into the food. As I scooped a spoonful of the salmon tartar onto a slice of the crusty, oil-drenched bread, I looked around the restaurant, noticing that while I'd been captivated by Edward and his story the restaurant had gotten quite full. In fact, we had to increase the volume of our voices to hear one another.

"Should I continue to tell you about San Francisco?" Edward asked, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his breath billow across my neck.

"Okay," I replied as I tilted my head back, sucking an oyster down my throat. Edward watched me carefully, his mouth opening as I swallowed, his tongue licking his lips unconsciously.

"Okay," he repeated.

"So, one morning I was at the harbor watching the sunrise and I was thinking of you when this incredibly beautiful, large yacht came sailing toward where I was standing. As it got closer I could see just how beautiful and elegant this boat was – all glistening wood and huge white sails.

"It slowed down when it was coming into dock and a man jumped off the front of the boat with the anchor line, but he landed on the dock funny and twisted his ankle. He dropped the anchor line when he fell and I was just close enough to jump up and grab the rope and tie it off onto the dock."

"As soon as the boat was secure I helped the man back onto the boat and lingered around to make sure he was okay. There were a few others on board and they started to lower the sails while I was standing there. One of the people on board was a girl – Heidi – and I must have looked interested because she asked if I wanted to help fold the sails."

"She was sailing?" I asked, surprised. It was hard to imagine her on a boat or doing anything sporty.

"Yes. I didn't know it at the time, but she hated sailing." I tried to read the emotions on his face, wondering why his beautiful features had twisted into an angry scowl. I could only imagine that he felt betrayed in some way by this early misconception.

"I learned later that she was only sailing that day because her father made her. She asked me to help furl the sails because she didn't want to do it. She hates any kind of manual labor, anything that might ruin her manicure or chafe her hands," he uttered bitterly, his words laced with his frustration.

"But I loved it…everything about it. The way my muscles tensed as I worked my body, the way the wind gusted through the harbor, the way the sun beat down on the deck, the breathtaking view of the San Francisco Bay from the water. It was all…just everything I needed.

"Aro saw that I was enjoying myself and asked if I had any experience sailing."

"Who is Aro?" I asked, confused, the name vaguely familiar.

"Oh, Aro Volturi, Heidi's father. He's the one who jumped off the front of the boat. Once the boat was all buttoned up for the day, we talked for a while about sailing and about his boat in particular. We were both so consumed by our conversation that we'd been talking for at least two hours before either one of us realized that his ankle had swollen up to the size of a cantaloupe.

"Bored by our topic of conversation, Heidi had disappeared below deck about ten minutes into the conversation and the other crew members weren't around so I offered to drive him to the hospital in his car. I recognized one of the residents in the ER and was able to get Aro priority treatment. I stuck by him through his exam and while he got X-Rays done. We pretty much spent the day together.

"Then what happened?" I asked, soaking up some of the sauce on my plate with a piece of bread.

"Well it turned out he actually broke his ankle. He seemed pretty humbled by the experience and was grateful for my help. He'd gotten from our talks throughout the day that I was pretty lost and that I was looking for a change, something to keep me distracted from…well, from the _things_ that were haunting me." His eyes flashed to mine meaningfully and I understood that I was one of the things that he was speaking of.

"The rest is history. I immediately dropped out of my residency at the hospital. I started taking care of Aro's boat, learning everything about it and how to sail. I even helped to restore and rebuild a teak kayak that he owned. I spent my days out on the Bay, in the sun and wind. It was rejuvenating. It gave me purpose."

He smiled the first real smile since he'd begun his tale. He was so gorgeous and lit up from inside that I couldn't resist smiling too. But the good feeling was fleeting. I could sense that Edward was getting to the part of the story that would hurt me.

As if realizing the same thing, Edward moved even closer to me so that the sides of our bodies were flush against one another. He grasped both my hands in his large ones. We were so close that I couldn't look into his eyes and this troubled me. But I pushed myself tighter against his chest. We were so still that I could hear his heart beating under the fabric of his shirt.

I hadn't been so physically close to Edward since those seminal, fleeting moments we spent alone in our rooms when I was just a naïve girl. Now I was a woman and I was more than aware that our touching meant something more, something significant. I wanted more than anything to treasure the moment, to savor how it felt to push my breasts into his chest with our hearts beating against one another. But I couldn't.

I had to ask him the question that neither one of us could avoid. It hurt to pull away, but I had to.

"But what…what about Heidi?" I stammered my question, bracing myself for his answer. He shifted to the side, his chair legs squealing against the floor as he flinched, looking almost physically pained by my question.

"Well, Heidi is another story," he replied remorsefully, looking away, down at his empty plate.

"Are you still…with her?" I asked, feeling my shoulders rise, my body stiffening.

His eyes met mine for a brief second and I pushed the air painfully out of my lungs. His eyes had turned cold, hard, vacant. I couldn't breathe as I waited for his answer. He tugged at his hair, almost growling in frustration. I was so frightened by his change in demeanor that I nearly didn't hear his answer.

"Yes," he whispered through pursed lips as though I'd forced him to say the word.

"Yes?" I asked incredulously through my tears.

**Are you still with me? Still enjoying the tension between these two? Remember, they've only just been reunited. Their lives are messy and need to be tidied up before they can really move forward. I won't make you wait too long for this to happen. **

**Thank you so much for reading. Please review and let me know what you think about these two and leave me your predictions. Some of you are so insightful! I really love reading your comments.**


	31. Chapter 31

**I have to admit that I am thoroughly humbled by all the positive responses this story is receiving. And you have all been so patient with me! I am amazed that even though there hasn't yet been a single kiss between Edward and Bella, you still have faith in this story! **

**But this is the chapter where that all changes and I'd love to hear what you guys think now that there is finally some physical interaction between the two. It was fun to write and I promise, there will be lots more from this point forward!**

**Disclaimer: SM owns all things Twilight. I don't.**

**Thank you to who still manages to find mistakes in my chapters no matter how many times I edit them myself. I'm still hoping someday I'll stump her and write a perfect chapter. I know…It's a dream.**

**No more delays. Get to reading!**

I wriggled my toes in the sand, pushing them below the sun-baked surface until my feet were surrounded by the cool, gritty granules. I bent my legs, pulling them toward my chest and rested my chin on my knees. My fingers sifted thoughtlessly through the sand while I waited, my body and my heart growing infinitely colder as the silence stretched between us.

Edward was still as he sat to me, his eyes focused on the ocean. He seemed almost stunned by the hypnotic pounding of the waves as they crashed and tumbled open on the shore. I imagined that he appeared much the same years ago, when he had looked out on the boats docked in the San Francisco Harbor, searching for some clarity and meaning in his life.

No matter what he still needed to tell me, no matter how difficult it would be to hear, I felt his pain as if it were my own. There was an ache in my heart, a dull, squelching tightening that could only be eased by his words. I longed to hear them, so that I could comfort him, so that I could tell him that it would be okay… that _we _would be okay.

When we left the restaurant, Edward suggested that we make the ten minute walk down to the beach. He'd linked his fingers with mine and I spent several minutes of the walk simply fixated on how right it felt to be touching him. I felt so alive, so invigorated with him by my side that I barely noticed the scenery – the windswept trees, the vast blue ocean, the soft evening sunlight glinting off the white caps.

When we reached the beach, Edward slipped his hand from mine and I instantly felt bereft. I tried to be patient, sinking down into the sand, squinting as I looked up at him.

Even when Edward eventually sat down next to me, he was miles away. I could feel the weight of his hesitation, the chasm between us widening with each second that passed.

When my fingers began to numb, I wrapped my arms around my legs, tucking them closer, as if bracing myself for what was to come. As the reassuring touch of heat from the descending sun dwindled into a fleeting whisper, I couldn't stand the stony silence any longer.

I was screaming out inside for Edward to say something, to somehow bring us back to the intimacy we'd shared in the restaurant, but he remained stoic.

"Edward," I prodded quietly, my voice lilting on a gust of ocean wind. The sound was so faint I almost wondered if he'd heard me. I opened my mouth to speak again when Edward abruptly wrenched his eyes from the setting sun, shifting his body in the sand so that he was facing me.

"Can I hold your hand, Bella?" Edward asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Yes. Yes," I answered with relief, untangling my arms from my legs and turning so that I was more directly facing him, our knees touching. I reached out to grab his hands, holding them so that they rested comfortably between us on our legs.

"Why is this so hard to tell you?" he growled with frustration, his eyes shifting away.

"Just tell me, Edward. Please," I begged, drawing his gaze back to me.

"Bella, sometimes I feel like my life has been out of control since I met you," he admitted, the words stumbling out of his mouth. I blanched at his intensity, almost frightened by his anguish.

"I don't know what to say," I said. I was confused and apprehensive, worried that perhaps I wasn't prepared to hear what he had to say.

"It's not your fault, Bella. It's mine. I just can't get a handle on things. Everything just spirals out of my control."

"I don't understand," I said, feeling his frustration acutely.

"I know," he swallowed, adjusting his body in the sand so that he was even closer to me, our thighs against one another. "I've got to tell you everything."

"First, I've got to tell you why I left," he said, his voice barely audible above the pulse of the waves.

"I know," I blurted. "I mean, I understand. We couldn't have …we couldn't have been together." I wiped away the few tears that dropped from my eyes as I felt the emotion swell.

"You were young – so young - and it would have been wrong. I had such strong feelings for you, but I just couldn't act on them. I would have hated myself for taking advantage of you. I just couldn't," he rambled as his head dropped forward so our heads were touching.

"That night before I left…do you remember? You ran your fingers through my hair," he muttered in a breathy voice, his expression imploring. "It was one of the most intense, one of the most _incredible_ moments of my life."

I gasped in shock at his words, his confession. "I remember," I replied, overcome with feelings invoked by one of my most cherished memories. To find out that it was also a significant moment for him was more than I could handle. I crumbled, releasing a sob from deep in my gut.

"I've never felt that way since, Bella. It was you. It's always been you. Only you can make me feel that way."

My body heaved with emotion, the tears streaming freely down my face as I pushed myself upward so that I was kneeling on my knees, my chest inches from Edward's chest.

"I had to leave after that. Do you understand? I was weak. I had to leave. It was my only choice. Please say you understand and that you forgive me for leaving?" he nearly begged, his voice wavering.

"I forgive you." I pushed the words from my lips, the need in me burning up my insides, bubbling over.

I was so tired of resisting my true feelings and suppressing my desires. Edward was beautiful and transcendent in the pale evening light, his tortured gaze so full of passion. My only thought was that I had to wrap myself around him, to climb under his skin, to consume him.

Before I could talk myself out of it or analyze the consequences, I launched myself at his body, wrapping my arms around him. He instantly reacted, pulling me closer until our bodies were slammed almost painfully against one another. We clung to each other tightly, as if to hold onto the moment.

"Edward," I squeaked as I caught his gaze. I slid my hand up his back and into his hair, provoking even more feelings and memories to flood my befuddled mind. I relished the sublime feeling of being in his arms, of knowing that he wanted this as much as I did. This revelation gave me courage and I pulled his head down to me until our lips were pressed together.

I held onto the kiss, but almost at once, Edward pulled away. "I still have so much to tell you," he explained remorsefully, his heavy breath washing across my flushed cheeks.

"I don't care," I cried. "Please, can't we just have this moment?" I begged, desperate, my fingers digging into his arms.

He searched my face for any hesitation. Finding none in my expression, he simply nodded before crashing his lips to mine. I couldn't keep the emotion from surging to the surface as I kissed him back. Years of repressed feelings were stripped away, purged from my body in a flow of steady tears as his mouth expertly explored mine, his tongue kneading and caressing.

The release was incredible, cathartic. All my barriers had tumbled down, my soul bare. He kissed away my tears, pulling slightly back to wipe them with his long fingers. "Don't be sad. Don't be sad," he whispered.

"I'm not," I murmured, shaking my head. "I just feel _so much_," I explained.

He dipped his mouth back down to my face, sucking along my bottom lip, nipping lightly with his teeth before plunging his tongue back into my mouth. We kissed until the skin around my mouth was raw from rubbing against the short scruff of his beard, my lips bruised. I hardly even noticed that the sand under my knees was chafing, like fragments of tiny glass cutting into my flesh.

I'd imagined this moment so many times, but the reality of kissing Edward was so much more amazing than I ever could have hoped. I tried to memorize the feeling of his lips, his sensuous tongue, and the tingling in my limbs, but instead I just _felt, _surrendering to the unbelievable sensations flowing through my body.

Edward eventually pulled away, sinking back down into the sand, enfolding me in his arms on his lap. It had gotten darker since we'd first arrived at the beach. I closed my eyes, savoring the protected feeling of being in Edward's arms. I wanted to curl up like a bird in a nest and never leave.

Edward tucked me in closer and I wondered if he was wishing the same thing. I looked up into his face, inadvertently catching his troubled expression. He was struggling with his thoughts. Why did I always make him feel this way? I suddenly felt selfish, like I'd taken something from him that he wasn't at liberty to give.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "I feel stripped raw, Bella. But I can't deny how I feel anymore. I can't hide it. No matter how hard I try. I want to do the right thing. I just don't know what that is."

Edward breathed into my hair, the movement of his lips sending shivers down my arms. "My feelings for you have never changed. Seeing you again…it's like a fire's burning inside of me and it's blazing out of control." His eyes begged me to understand as his arms locked tighter around me.

"Do you see? Do you understand why I tried so hard to stay away?" His nose rubbed against the line of my jaw, dipping down to my neck so that his impassioned words vibrated against my skin. "I couldn't lose control…" His voice faded as he arched his back and looked deeply into my eyes, as if both seeking forgiveness and searching for the answers to his questions.

"I didn't understand at first," I admitted, my gaze flitting away. "I was too hurt to see things clearly."

He nodded, waiting for me to continue. "But after time passed, I could see why you did what you did. And I healed. And I can see now that you leaving _was _the right thing. I was too young." I raised my eyes and looked directly at his face, his green eyes swirling with emotion. With conviction, I added, "But I'm not too young anymore."

"No, you're not," Edward agreed, smiling for the first time since we'd arrived at the beach.

A few minutes passed while we both absorbed the words we'd exchanged. I'd felt a rush of power as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. It was short-lived though. No matter how hard I wanted to hold onto Edward, to cling onto him and never let go, I knew that there was still so much against us.

My curiosity lingered in the back of my mind, slowly but deliberately crawling its way to the surface. I couldn't completely block out Edward's words from earlier. Reality beckoned. I needed to know what I was up against. I needed to know about Heidi.

"It's getting cold," Edward observed and I took in how our environment had changed while we'd been talking. We were firmly encased in the fog bank now; not much was visible beyond our small sliver of the beach. "Let's walk back to the car," he suggested.

I wriggled out of his lap so that he could stand. He reached down to offer me a hand, a somber look on his face. We'd shared so much together and yet, I knew we still had so many obstacles to overcome. I shook myself out of my stupor as we began to walk, my mind and my limbs loosening with each step.

Edward kept his hand on my back as we walked, his gentle touch calming me. We'd made it about half way to the car when Edward sighed heavily, seeming to come to a decision as he slid his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close.

I happily snuggled into his chest, my body molding perfectly against him. I couldn't imagine ever feeling so comfortable or so right with any other person but Edward. The way our bodies responded to each was proof that I was made for him and he was made for me. I never wanted to be apart from him again. He was mine. I could feel it deep in my bones.

We finished the walk back to the car in silence, both of us reveling in the physical connection we shared, our bodies touching, rubbing, clinging as we moved. My arm curled around Edward's broad back to his side where I couldn't keep my hand from caressing the firm muscles under the fabric of his shirt.

While my hand explored, I was acutely aware of Edward's hand on my hip, his fingers snuggly wrapped around me. Every few steps or so, he would lightly adjust his hold so that our uneven strides didn't cause us to pull apart. As a result, there was no space between us. It was the most natural feeling in the world.

Too soon, we were back at Edward's car. We stood in the darkness, both unwilling to separate our bodies from one another. I heard Edward force a deep breath as though preparing to speak when a shrill ring cut through the tenuous link that bound us together. I was briefly thankful that the darkness hid my disappointment as Edward languidly pulled away from me, digging in his pocket to find his insistently shrieking phone.

My stomach clenched as he scanned the words on the glowing screen. I could read his frustration in the deep shadows cast on his face. His green eyes flashed at me apprehensively, a yet unspoken apology forming in his thoughts. I curled my body away from him, my arms linking across my chest. I found my feet taking me to the passenger side of the car before his words could assault me, before the hurt set in.

He looked at me searchingly across the car as he unlocked the doors. I slipped quietly into my seat, waiting, tense and cold and scared.

"I…I didn't realize how late it was getting. I need to head back. I'll take you back to your car."

I knew that the words were coming, but it didn't make it any easier to hear him speak them. Instead of erecting a wall between us, I allowed them to slap me, to cut through me. They were abrupt and painful. And yet I didn't crumble. I knew he was going home to her – to her arms, her bed.

But I wasn't crushed. I was mad. _Really mad_.

How could he do this to me? I knew, without any doubt, that he had strong feelings for me – maybe even as powerful as mine for him. The fact that this didn't change anything - that he was still returning to her - wasn't just confusing, it was offensive. The more I thought about Heidi and her simpering gaze, her bony arms, and her disaffected voice, the more furious I grew.

"Was it Heidi on the phone?" I blurted angrily at Edward, unable to keep from glancing at him, looking for his body to give his feelings away. His eyes darted my way quickly, anxiously, before returning to the road. His sharp jaw clenched as his knuckles strained around the steering wheel. I couldn't help recognizing that even when tense and uncomfortable, Edward was inhumanly beautiful - a tortured angel, a brooding Adonis.

"Yes," he answered reluctantly, as if he was as unwilling as I was to allow her presence to invade our time together. He reached over in the darkness, flitting lightly across my thigh to clasp my hand in his. I was elated by his touch, while utterly confused by the gesture. Even though my heart was screaming at me not too, I wrenched my hand out of his.

"Why?" I squeaked. "Why are you going back to her?"

"It's a really long story, Bella," he replied, running his now free hand through his hair. "I'll tell you…I'll tell it all to you. I promise." He turned toward me, his eyes blazing with feeling. "I _need _you to hear it all. I want you to hear it all…I do," he said emphatically.

"Okay." I nodded, my eyes fixed on his strong profile. I could feel my anger fading, but the hole in my heart seemed to widen. I was empty. I didn't know how to feel.

"I promise that we'll talk more," he said as he turned into the parking lot across the street from where I worked. I pointed to my car and he pulled into the open space next to it.

"When?" I asked, thinking of how our time was limited. I swallowed the surge of panic that swelled inside of me at the thought of him leaving.

How was I going to make him want me and need me as badly as I needed him in just a few short days? I felt my resolve fold as the impossibility of the task began to overwhelm me. I was sucking in quick, short breaths as I tried to hold back my tears when Edward's words stopped my downward spiral.

"I will _find_ time. I will see you again! I can't stay away from you anymore," Edward admitted. "Even if I am going to hell," he whispered, more to himself than to me.

I was trying to process his words when he slammed his lips against mine, kissing me passionately, desperately. I kissed him back with the same level of intensity, pouring all the years of love and desire I'd felt for him into my lips.

When my emotion began to spill from my heart uncontained, the tears streaming from my eyes, I tore myself away from him, flinging myself out of the car. I didn't want Edward to see me cry again. I wasn't yet ready to admit to him just how deeply I needed his love. I'd been resisting giving into these feelings for so long that I was afraid to completely let go. At least until I knew the whole story, until I truly believed I could trust Edward with my heart.

As I drove home one thought consumed my mind. Now that I'd had a taste of Edward's lips, felt the warmth of his body, how would I ever be able to live without him?

I'd been sitting on the couch in the dark for nearly a half hour when Tanya flipped on the light switch, startling at the sight of my lone, sulking form. Recovering quickly, she shuffled over to sit down next to me, grasping my hand.

"Baby, what's the matter?" she cooed delicately.

I squinted over at her, my eyes adjusting to the harsh illumination. I should have been entirely used to Tanya's complete lack of modesty, but I found myself almost perpetually stunned by her thoroughly inherent sensuality.

On anyone else, the outfit she wore would look like a clumsy attempt at seduction, but on her, it was like a second skin. The pale pink, papery thin negligee that scooped low over her breasts was almost transparent. The material, pulled taut against her skin with a black ribbon that criss-crossed its way down her body, ended in a diminutive bow at her waist. She wore tiny panties underneath that matched. The whole effect was almost sexier than if she were entirely nude, the fabric only enhancing her complete confidence in her body.

"Oh, nothing," I whispered, feeling awkward and ungainly and entirely unfeminine in her presence. I wondered if someone like Tanya could ever fully understand the uncertainty I was feeling.

"Is it Garrett? Did he do something?" she seethed. "Cause I could kick his skinny ass for you."

"No, it's not Garrett. Though I'd love to see you kick his ass," I admitted with a giggle.

"Then…? Is it Alice's brother? Edward?"

I inhaled sharply as the name fell flat in the air between us, my eyes panicked. I had hoped my feelings weren't so obvious.

"Hmm…wait here," Tanya ordered, tapping my knee as she stood abruptly, running back down the hallway toward her room.

I dropped my head to my hands to wait, pushing all thoughts from my mind until it was blank and quiet. A few minutes later I felt the couch cushion dip and I sat upright, opening my eyes.

My gaze immediately fell on Angela sitting cross-legged on the floor before me, an opened wine bottle in her hand, an impish smile on her face. I stifled a giggle at the sight of her flannel pajamas, one of many sets she owned, adorned with a chaotic pattern of Christmas trees and reindeer in bright red and green. She couldn't be dressed any more differently than Tanya and yet somehow, they fit together perfectly.

Tanya nudged me to get my attention, drawing my gaze away from Angela. She held a lit joint in her hand, pinched between her fingers in offering.

"No," I shook my head slightly. "You know I don't do that. I can't…" I said, feeling the need to explain. Though Angela knew all about my past and my mother, Tanya didn't really know the whole story. "It's just my mom was a big drug user and she…well…I was around it too much as a kid. I was forced to…and now…I just can't," I stumbled around my words.

"I'm sorry, Bella. You should never do anything you're uncomfortable with," she said sweetly as she put the joint between her lips and lit the end with a lighter.

"That's why I brought the wine," Angela said, passing me the bottle. "Take a swig. It's a good Pinot…Tanya bought it."

I grasped the bottle out of her hands while Tanya took a deep drag on the joint, blowing a cloud of pungent smoke into the air before passing it to Angela.

"So tell us what's got your panties in a twist," Tanya asked as she settled deeper into the couch.

I dodged her question, taking a drink from the wine bottle, letting the tart liquid pool on my tongue before swallowing. "I'm not sure where to start. It all just seems like a gigantic mess. Ugh, my life is a gigantic mess," I sighed dramatically, taking another gulp of wine.

"Whose isn't? We've all been there, Bella. No one said life is easy. Look at our choices. Some people think that we're heathens because of how we live…because we love each other," Angela said, reaching out to caress Tanya's ankle. "Sometimes the hard choices are the ones that make the most sense though. They're the ones that make life worth living."

"Oh man, that's so sappy. How much wine have you had?" Tanya teased, wriggling her toes at Angela.

"It might sound cheesy, but it's true," Angela huffed defensively, but leaned in to plant a kiss on Tanya's foot.

"So why is your life a mess – I mean, besides the obvious?" Tanya asked jokingly, huffing on the small, remaining stub of the joint.

I hesitated to answer, wondering if I should pour out my heart to my friends, tell them the whole sordid tale or if I should continue to keep my secret love buried deep within my heart. I was afraid that if I spoke the words aloud than I'd have to face all the skeletons in my closet. Every secret hope I'd harbored would be exposed, leaving me unprotected – vulnerable in the most intense and raw way.

But it was too late to hide anymore. My life had changed. I could no longer pretend that my world was the same. It had only been a few days since Edward had walked back into my life, but I already felt like a new woman. I was ready to take the plunge, but I still needed to know just what kind of pool I was jumping into. I needed answers. I needed to know about Heidi and what her role was in Edward's life.

"Ugh," I grunted, thinking of Edward driving off, leaving me so that he could head towards her. It was so unfair.

"Edward Cullen," I stated, tipping the nearly empty wine bottle to my lips. "Edward Cullen is the reason I'm a mess. I've been a mess since I set eyes on him when I was fifteen years old," I confessed.

I was saved from having to say anything more by the sound of my cell phone ringing. I struggled to push myself forward to the edge of the couch so that I could dig it out from my purse on the floor. I gasped at Edward's name on the screen, for one irrational moment believing that by speaking of him I'd willed him to call.

I answered, while the eyes of my two intoxicated roommates watched, their expressions vacillating between concern and delight. "Hello."

"Bella…I'm here…at your house. Will you let me in?"

**So what did you think? **

**Many of you are frustrated by Heidi and I love your predictions as to why Edward is still with her when he clearly doesn't want to be. We'll learn all about it in the next chapter.**

**I know it's another cliffhanger, but…I had to. Please leave a review. Did you like this one? **


	32. Chapter 32

**I'm sitting in my sunroom with the windows open, my dog curled languidly at my feet, relishing the warm breeze and the blue skies outside. It's impossible not to be happy today. I wish I could bottle quiet moments like this where I have time to myself and a comfortable spot to waste as much of it as I desire. Alas, these moments are fleeting…**

**Here is your next installment of **_**Second Chances. **_**I know these chapters don't come as frequently as most of you would like, but I do put quite a lot of effort into polishing them up so that they are worth your time.**

**The plot certainly thickens in this chapter. I know some of you will have some strong words for me. I'm prepared. Please read the author's note at the end!**

**Thanks to , my ever-faithful beta. **

**Disclaimer: Even though I wish I was Stephanie Meyer, I'm not even close. I don't have any claim over these characters, just to the crazy, convoluted tale I've written them into.**

I will never forget the moment I opened the door to find Edward Cullen on my front doorstep. I didn't spare a second to think about what his presence meant or to wonder at the late hour. I ran to the door, leaving my stunned roommates behind in the living room.

I didn't hesitate, flinging the door open in anticipation, my heart pounding in my chest. I was immediately accosted by the dense fog, the moist air hovering. The lone streetlight on the block shrouded the night with an unearthly glow that made the man before me look like a messenger from another world, Hermes with his winged sandals, there to lead me to the Underworld.

"Hi," I said nervously, too excited to see Edward again to wonder why he was standing on my doorstep at one in the morning.

"Hi," he replied, shifting on his feet, and wiping his hands on his jean-covered thigh.

"Um, why are you here?"

"I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head and chuckling.

"Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, please," he answered formally as he walked across the threshold into the house.

"How did you…know where I live?" I asked over my shoulder as I led him down the hallway toward the living room.

"I asked Alice. I uh, woke her up actually. I owe her an explanation tomorrow," he muttered.

"What will you tell her?" I asked as I peered into the dim, empty space of the living room.

I thought I'd find Angela and Tanya, waiting and curious, but they'd vanished, leaving us alone. For an instant I almost wished they were still in the room, offering their support, providing a buffer between me and the heavy discussion I knew was unavoidable.

The skin along the back of my neck and my arms tingled. I was acutely aware of Edward's presence behind me. A shudder flowed down my body, from my head all the way down my legs and through my toes. His footsteps grew closer and without turning around, I somehow knew he was going to touch me. I braced myself, my muscles tensing.

He lightly grazed my shoulder, his fingers playing down my arm like a musician caressing his instrument. They stopped at my wrist, encircling it.

"Bella?" he whispered, his fingers burning into my skin.

I turned to face him, and I had to stifle a gasp at the heated look in his eyes. He looked hungry, wild, desperate.

"It's late," I stated, my eyes locked on his, my brain fuzzy.

"Yeah," he responded and my mind tumbled, trying to catch hold of what I should say, how I should act. An errant image of my father flashed into my thoughts and I remembered how naturally he conducted himself whenever someone came to the door of our little, ramshackle house.

When I'd first moved to Forks to live with him, I'd mistakenly assumed that my father was as lonely, and as detached as I was. But it wasn't long before I realized how wrong I'd been. Charlie was incredibly popular in our small town. He was well-respected and liked and was often sought out for his company and advice. At least several times a week we had visitors to our house – friends, neighbors, female admirers – and Charlie was always friendly, always cordial, always welcoming.

Even when I was so fearful and shy that I lurked in the corners or hid at the top of the stairs, I learned from these exchanges. I learned that most people who visited weren't selfish, threatening or manipulative like many of the adults that I'd had prior experience with. Most of them were friendly, and kind, always offering a pie, a six-pack of beer, or a casserole in exchange for a few moments of my dad's time.

Charlie was always willing to open the door, offering advice and a drink as he led the visitors to our well-worn couch. I would see him look around for me, to see where I had slinked off to. He never drew attention to me, but I could tell that he always sensed where I was, allowing me to observe and listen from the shadows.

Edward's hand on my wrist drew me back to the cold, dark hallway in my home, where we stood, locked together in uncomfortable tension. As I looked into Edward's eyes, Charlie's words popped out of my mouth without thought.

"Do you want something to drink or…" my words faded on my tongue, my breaths heavy. _Should I lead him to the couch?_ I thought, trying to string together some frame of reference on how to act in this situation.

"Um, no thanks. I…I want to…well, I need to…" Edward shook his head from side to side as if trying to shuffle the words into a meaningful order before they came out of his mouth. I could barely resist the urge to grab his face and stop the movement. His frustration caused us both pain.

I knew that Edward's need to unburden himself was causing him to suffer and I also realized that I'd done little to help the situation. In fact, I'd been so hesitant to hear what was surely going to be a painful confession that I hadn't pushed for any answers. I wanted to live in the charade a little longer – in the make-believe world – where Edward had no painful past, no Heidi and no lingering connection to a life in San Francisco.

"Edward. It's okay," I comforted, trying to make my words sound genuine. "Let's go talk," I said, wriggling my wrist from his hold until my fingers slipped down his hand, intertwining with his.

With a renewed sense of courage, I switched direction, pivoting away from the living room and leading Edward down the hallway to my room. I edged the door open and shuffled forward in the darkness, pulling him behind me until my knees found the edge of my bed.

"Wait," I whispered, feeling exhilarated by the heat from his body as I opened the top drawer of my bedside table. I held tightly onto his hand while I sifted blindly through the contents of the drawer - papers, cards, photographs, a bottle of lotion, random buttons, paperclips, a tube of chapstick – until my fingertips finally recognized the book of matches I kept there.

I paused for a few seconds before finally letting go of Edward's hand and striking a match. The tiny flame flickered at the tip of the match as I touched it carefully to each of the wicks of the collection of candles sitting on top of the table.

My nervous fingers fumbled to light the last candle, the angry flame traveling quickly down the match. I flinched, squealing, "ow" as the heat scorched the tip of my finger. I dropped the match into the candle where it disappeared into the pool of melted wax, dousing the tiny fire.

"Bella!" Edward cried, stepping closer into the warm glow of the candlelight. "Your finger," he said, grasping my hand and pulling it towards his face so that he could see how badly I'd injured myself. He squinted at my hand for a second before his eyes sought mine, his expression transformed.

With my finger still cradled in his, he blew lightly on the burnt tip, his warm breath feeling cool against my injured skin. I inhaled sharply at the sensation. I felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable; my heart beat pounded an almost violent rhythm in my chest.

I was thinking that I didn't want the moment to end when Edward pulled my hand even closer, his lips dipping to lightly caress my finger with a gentle kiss. The candlelight flickered dimly so that we could barely see each other, but I could still see the sensual look on Edward's face. I'd never seen such a look of desire from any man before.

As his tongue slipped through his lips, swirling around my finger from the base to the tip, I felt such a strong wave of heat and lust that I wasn't sure I could suppress it. My eyes were fixed on his as he looked at me with desire and need. I ached to reach out to him, to give him everything, but I was overcome with conflicting emotions. My body was telling me to push him back onto my bed and undress him while my mind was pleading with me to step back and wait.

As if sensing my internal battle, Edward pulled his mouth away, his eyes all at once terrified. "Bella…please," he begged and I dropped my gaze, stricken by the broken look on his face. I couldn't stand to know that I was inadvertently hurting him. And I knew at that moment that nothing he could tell me mattered. I would always love him. There would never be another man who made me feel so intensely.

I reached out for him, clinging to his strong arms. I stood up on my toes, and just like I had earlier at the beach, I pushed my lips to his, demanding a kiss. He responded instantly, his soft lips urgently crashing against mine.

His arms wound around me, his large hands running up the length of my back to my shoulders where they tangled themselves into my hair. I moaned into Edward's mouth and he responded by tightening his hold, scooping me against him even closer.

We broke apart to breathe and I snuggled my head into his shoulder, reveling in the comfort his body provided. I inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to wash over me. I wanted to stay in his arms forever.

Edward's steady heartbeat calmed me; the fire raging inside me began to subside. He lifted his hands to cradle my face, tilting my head back so that our eyes met.

"I wish I could hold you in my arms forever, but I can't," he said with quiet anguish.

I didn't know how to respond. I wanted to tell him to just give me one night in his arms. But I knew that would never be enough.

"Let's sit," I offered, resigned that we were finally facing the obstacles in our path. I was almost relieved to at least finally know what I was up against. But a part of me wanted to hide, to remain blissfully ignorant as long as possible.

I sat down at the head of my bed, crossing my legs in front of me and resting my head against the headboard. Edward sat at my feet, reclining across the length of my queen-sized mattress. When he stretched out in front of me, I couldn't stop my eyes from lingering on the small strip of skin revealed between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans.

I'd never felt so much longing to touch and possess someone before this moment. A spasm of powerful need coiled in the bottom of my stomach as I greedily eyed the angle of his hip bone, the small smattering of dark hair circling his navel and disappearing under the waist of his pants.

The sound of our deep breaths was the only sound in the room. I felt physically exhausted, but thoroughly awake, the haze of sleepiness and wine had long-since vanished, leaving me tingling and alert. I waited in this almost prickly state, giving Edward the chance to lead.

He didn't speak, but turned his body toward mine, lying on his side with his head propped on his hand. I tried not to ogle his long, svelte, reclining form. I tried to separate myself from the reality that Edward and I were alone in my room, on my bed together. I kept my hands locked on my knees, feeling tense and tightly wound.

Edward reached out and playfully tugged my toe, causing my body to shudder in surprise. My reaction to his touch seemed to alert him to my anxiousness and he finally spoke.

"Why is life so cruel?" he asked, sighing.

"I don't know," I answered, my gaze transfixed by the candlelight glinting off the golden scruff on his jaw.

"Being here…on your bed with you – it's distracting. I think I need to sit up," he said as he shifted so that he was next to me, his head banging back against the headboard. His knee grazed mine and instead of giving me space, he scooted closer so that our knees were touching. It was both too much contact and not enough.

As though trying to ease my agitation, he placed his hand in mine, linking our fingers so that our hands were resting on where our knees were joined. "That's better," he said. "Now I feel like I can talk."

"Are you ready for the whole story, Bella?" he prodded gently. I wondered what he would have done had I said no. But I didn't.

"Yes. I need to know," I said with more certainty than I felt. Yet, as soon as I spoke the words I realized that they were absolutely true.

"Okay," he sighed, his hand squeezing. "I suppose I should start at the beginning."

"Okay," I agreed, breathing deeply, steeling myself for the worst.

"When I first started working for Aro, Heidi wasn't around much. She would come down to the Harbor with him occasionally, but I didn't really pay much attention to her and she really didn't pay much attention to me either.

"I'm not entirely sure…and I hate to think the worst of people, but it wasn't until Aro and I were talking one day about our families that things began to change."

"What do you mean?" I asked while Edward seemed to be organizing his thoughts.

"Sometimes Aro would come down to the harbor at night and we'd hang out together. We'd drink expensive Scotch and smoke cigars and talk. One night he asked about my family – where I came from, what my parents did, siblings, stuff like that. He seemed generally interested until I mentioned that my mom's maiden name is Platt. He'd heard of the Platt family before and was…impressed, I guess, that I was from 'old money.'

"He kept asking me questions about my grandparents and about their home, their friends, their properties, the clubs they belonged to. He kept refilling my glass and I just got more and more drunk and kept on talking. I don't really think I gave anything important away, but from that night on he treated me differently. I was an employee who he liked talking to before that night, but after, it was like I was a son or something.

"The weirdest thing was that all of a sudden, Heidi came down to visit with her father almost every time he came to check on the boat. And sometimes she'd come by herself. She started…" he hesitated as if embarrassed.

"She started what?" I asked, squeezing his hand encouragingly, though I braced myself for his explanation.

"Well, for lack of a better term, she started pursuing me, coming on to me, touching me every chance she got, constantly hinting that she was interested." He tugged his hand from mine, running it through his hair distractedly, his eyes shifting around my room.

I felt a pang of hatred for the skinny bitch as I imagined her rubbing her body against Edward's, her bony hands running along his chest. I pushed the image away, but still I felt a chill, noticing for the first time that it had started raining outside, the wind slapping against the window.

Edward noticed my discomfort and ran his hand along my arm. I couldn't help but lean in toward him, my body moving of its own accord. He grabbed the throw from the bottom of my bed and covered out legs, and then draped his arm around my shoulder, tucking me to his side.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied as I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his strong body against mine.

"So, Heidi wouldn't leave me alone," he continued. "I didn't do anything to encourage her," he said firmly, in a way that didn't leave room for doubt. "But she just didn't get the hint. The more I rejected her, the more openly she threw herself at me. And Aro…well, he started to try and push us together all the time."

"Do you think that they were interested in your money?" I asked, thinking of what he'd said about Aro's interest in Esme's family.

"No. Aro is, by far, one of the wealthiest men I've ever met. He's arrogant and loves to talk about money. He once told me that there were only a few people in the US who were richer than him."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yes. I googled him once. I found his name on one of those lists of the richest people in the world. He was up there toward the top."

"Wow, so why was he so eager? I mean, maybe Heidi wanted you and he just wanted to help?" I suggested, trying to emotionally distance myself so that I could look at the situation analytically.

"I don't think it was that either. I think that Aro liked the idea that I came from money and that it was 'old money.' He hated being left out of certain aspects of society because he was the 'nouveau riche.' It seems ridiculous, but for some reason, it was meaningful to him. At first, I suspect that he was using Heidi just as much as he was using me to get what he wanted."

"I'm so confused. What do you mean? What did he want?" I asked, trying to read his expression in the faint light.

"It was nothing as nefarious as simply linking himself to a family with 'old money' connections. He just saw an opportunity to open the last few doors that up until that point had been closed to him. What is so ironic about all this is that I always disliked my mother's side of the family. They nearly disowned her when she married my father and we hardly ever saw our grandparents when we were children. I'd always thought of being related to the Platts as something negative.

"And Aro was trying to exploit that connection. Didn't that push you away? Why did you continue to work for him if you knew that he was using you?"

"I've only come to understand all of this recently. He was a little more subtle than I'm making it sound. I was still blinded by the joy I got out of sailing and taking care of his boat and the freedom the lifestyle represented to me at the time." His words were passionate and I could easily visualize him standing at the prow of the sailboat with the wind whipping through his hair, the golden sun kissing his skin.

"What about Heidi? What did she get out of all of this?" I reluctantly drew the conversation back to the most painful aspect. He hadn't told me outright, but I wondered if they were engaged.

"Uh…well, Aro had been manipulating Heidi her whole life. He thought of her like one of his possessions. He got the best nanny for her, sent her to the best schools, bought her expensive clothes, cars, jewelry – anything she wanted.

"But it all came at a price – she had to be what he wanted her to be, look and act in a way that fed his ego. It's no worse than what many parents do to their children. But, there was something inherently cold and calculating about the way Aro treated Heidi. He only wanted her around if she was useful to him in some way.

"She really had no free will of her own at all. I'm not sure if she even knows who she is or what she genuinely cares about." His statement petered out at the end, his words a soft murmur drifting across the space between us.

"How could you work for someone like that?" I spat again, not fully buying his explanation and unable to hold in my dislike for this man who held some type of elusive control over Edward.

"Ugh, Bella, I wish that I knew then what I knew now," Edward seethed in frustration.

"It just wasn't clear to me in the beginning. And…I just didn't have anything to lose then. I was at rock bottom," he explained, and in the shadowy glimmer of the candle's glow I detected the remorse in his eyes and in the curve of his back.

"But things are different now?" I asked uncertainly, hoping that his answer would quell my fears.

"Everything is different now!" he answered emphatically. "Seeing you again…well, it has to be fate. If you believe anything, Bella, you need to know that seeing you has changed me…changed the path I was on. I feel like I've been given a second chance," he said sincerely, his honesty both thrilling and terrifying me. I knew I wanted what he was offering me, but I still couldn't fully trust that we'd get our happily ever after.

"What about Heidi, though? You're still with her." My voice wavered with emotion. What was I missing? Why was I so afraid that he hadn't told me the worst of it?

"Heidi did what she was told to do," Edward stated flatly. "She…she did everything she could to try and seduce me. I won't get into particulars, but she…well, she…"

"It's okay, Edward. I really don't want to hear about that," I demanded forcefully, my harsh tone immediately cutting off his words.

"Okay," he agreed. "But Bella, please understand that I was never attracted to Heidi. She's not healthy, anyone can see that." He pulled his knees to his chest, sighing in resignation.

"Not healthy?" I prodded, curious to know more.

"She's not well, Bella," he said plainly.

"How?"

"Well, she's anorexic. She hardly eats. But there's more to it than that," he added, but didn't offer a deeper explanation.

"So did she…um, seduce you?" I asked, my words no more than a whisper. I couldn't seem to make them more concrete.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice no louder than mine. His admission floated around us, severing our connection while somehow intangibly imprisoning us in the moment. I tried to make sense of the words, of just what he was confessing to have done. A painful tremor shuddered through my body as my thoughts jumbled. I was unable – or perhaps unwilling - to focus on the thought of the man sitting on the bed next to me in the arms of anyone else.

And then all at once the dam in my mind crumbled and I was flooded with images of Edward with Heidi – touching, kissing, naked together, her long legs wrapped around him, her skeletal fingers tugging on his hair. I couldn't fight back the sob that escaped from my chest at the visual. Even though I knew rationally that he'd been with other women - that he was older and more experienced - my heart wanted to pretend he belonged only to me.

"Bella," he gasped as he enfolded me in his arms, pulling me so that I was sitting in his lap. "Please, baby, don't cry. I can't stand to know that I've hurt you," he begged.

"I'm sorry. It's harder to hear than I thought it would be," I told him as I wiped my tears away. "I promise I won't cry anymore."

"I don't want to hurt you, but there's more that I have to tell you." It was as though he was purging his sins to me. They had to be said. I steeled myself to hearing what he'd finally come to confess, burrowing myself deeper into his chest.

I wanted to be strong, but I needed the physical connection to him. He seemed to need it too. He held me tightly to him, speaking quickly into my shoulder.

"One night Aro and I had just come back from a sail to Sausalito. It was a gorgeous day – incredible winds – a perfect sailing day. Aro starting drinking early and he never drinks alone. He was more than generous with his alcohol – feeding me drinks as we circled the bay. By the time we pulled back in to the harbor I was already pretty drunk.

"Being on a boat in the sun all day made me even more out of it. At first I didn't even notice that Heidi had shown up…that she and I were somehow all alone. I remember feeling hungry and thinking that I should eat, but I still had to button up the boat – put her away for the night.

"Heidi kind of shuffled around after me, following me as I did all my duties. When I look back at that night now, I can see things more clearly. Like how Heidi was acting strangely – nervous even. I noticed that her hands were shaking. But I was so drunk that I didn't put two and two together.

"Somehow we ended up below deck. I can remember telling her that I had to get home, that I was hungry, that I had to call a cab. I tried to get away," he swore, his nose nuzzling my hair.

"But you didn't," I stated, ready to get it over with.

"No. I didn't go home. I don't know exactly what happened next. I blacked out. That's never happened to me before. Really, Bella, I usually don't drink that much. It's all still so confusing." He spoke as though he sincerely needed me to believe in him – that it was important that I knew what kind of man he was. But I knew already. He didn't need to convince me of his character – he'd proven himself time and time again.

"I know," I comforted, running my hand along his arm. Despite the seriousness of our conversation, I couldn't ignore my intense attraction to him, my body's inherent need to touch him. I wrapped my fingers around his bicep and up over his strong, broad shoulder. It was impossible to stop touching him once I'd began and I moved my hand upward around the nape of his neck, weaving my fingers into his hair.

He sighed in pleasure, dropping his head forward so that the stubble on his cheek grazed against mine. A whimper fell from my lips at the prickly sensation.

"That feels incredible," he said, as I continued to run my fingers across his scalp.

"Do you remember that night that I picked you up from Laurent's party?" Edward asked, startling me from the fleeting moment of intimacy. I pulled my hand back to my lap.

"Yes, I…I remember," I answered, my mind slammed with images from that night.

"Do you remember how you felt…when you were drugged? How you couldn't walk? How you couldn't think straight?"

"Yes."

"That's how I felt that night…on Aro's boat. I mean, I've thought about it a lot since then and I wouldn't put it beyond Aro to have maybe…drugged me."

"You mean…Heidi?" I asked with a gasp, astonished by his suggestion.

"If that was his plan, I'm not sure Heidi knew. Maybe. But when I woke up I was still on the boat - in the master bedroom - with Heidi. She was asleep and…we were both naked."

"What did you do? Did you wake her up?" I asked, trying to ignore the clenching in my chest.

"No, I was completely freaked out. I grabbed my clothes and ran out of there as fast as I could without waking her up.

"I never meant for that to happen. It wouldn't have happened if I were sober. And I never intended to have a relationship with her."

"But you did…um, start a relationship with her? I mean, it wasn't just a one-time thing?" I asked hopefully, even though I knew that they were now inexplicably a couple. I just couldn't understand it. Edward didn't seem to like her or to want to be with her. I couldn't fathom what was keeping them together. It didn't make sense. I felt like I was missing something important, something that he hadn't yet told me.

"I avoided her, and at first, we didn't talk about that night," he answered, avoiding my question.

"At first?" I mumbled against his chest, fisting his shirt in my fingers.

"I actually didn't see her for almost a month afterwards. I figured she regretted the night as much as I did. I was relieved that I didn't have to address what was, to me, a mistake. And I didn't want to have to hurt her either."

I felt a pang of jealousy at his words. I unreasonably wanted Edward to only care about my feelings. But what made Edward such a wonderful man was his sensitivity, his genuine desire to be a good man. His conscience would never allow him to intentionally wound another person. I silently chided myself for my selfish thoughts.

"And then what happened? When did you see her again?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth the flame of the final lit candle flickered and died, enshrouding us in complete darkness.

"Can we lie down?" Edward asked, already lifting me from his lap and sliding down so that he was on his side facing me. I mirrored his position as he reached out, wrapping his hand around my waist so that we were again connected. When we were both settled comfortably, he quietly continued.

"About a month after the incident, Aro invited me to his house in Tiburon for dinner. I'd never been there before and I was both intrigued and suspicious of the invitation."

"Doesn't he live in San Francisco?" I asked, wondering why he would have his boat in San Francisco if he lived somewhere else.

"No. He has an office in the city where he spends most days, but he lives in Tiburon."

"Oh, what was their house like?"

"It was pretty magnificent, but a little too extravagant for my tastes. He obviously hired a designer to fill the place with expensive furnishings and works of art. It felt very…overdone – lots of oriental rugs and vases, gold-framed paintings of sailboats and little porcelain figurines everywhere. But truly the most amazing part of the house is the view. Their property is on the edge of a cliff with an infinity pool that looks like it pours right out into the ocean.

"I could have spent all night looking at that view, but I really didn't get to spend that much time enjoying it," he lamented while I imagined the setting as he described it.

"Why not? What happened?" I asked, wishing that it was light enough that I could see the expression on his face.

"I was looking out at the ocean, waiting for Aro to return from inside – he'd gone in to take a call – when Heidi appeared. She was all dressed up like she was going out to a party – her hair up and with lots of make-up on. I thought maybe she was just stopping out to say hello before leaving to go somewhere else.

"But even when I said hello to her she didn't speak. She didn't say anything. She just stood there in her grey dress and her ridiculously high shoes, looking out at the pool.

"It felt awkward and I felt pressed to end the silence somehow. I didn't really know what to say, so I decided to apologize. I started to tell her that I was sorry when she blurted something unintelligible at the same time."

"What was it? What did she say?" I asked and Edward's hands clenched around my waist. He sighed heavily and whispered the only words that could tear us apart.

"She told me that she was pregnant."

**Please don't be mad at me for this ending! I tried really hard not to end it here, but each time I rewrote the conclusion to this chapter, I realized it had to be this way. I promise to finish up the next chapter as quickly as I can so that you aren't sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear the rest of Edward's tale.**

**Go ahead, review. Tell me how pissed you are! I'm curled up like an armadillo, waiting.**


	33. Chapter 33

**I am leaving to go camping in the mountains near Occidental, CA with my daughter for a week and I won't have access to my computer for five whole days…Yikes! I think this might be a good thing for me…maybe. I'm already having fanfiction withdrawals. Luckily, my beta, got this back to me in time to post it for you before I leave for my adventures in the wilderness. **

**Thank you to everyone who posted reviews for the last chapter! There was so sort of massive fanfiction fail - every time I tried to respond to a review I received an error. Please know that I intended to respond to many of the reviews, but I simply couldn't. Your reviews mean so much!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer. Any benefit I receive from writing fanfiction comes purely from the knowledge that I have exerted effort, bared my soul, mined the coffers of my imagination, and shared the results of this effort with you. I love this exchange. It feeds my creativity and for now, that is enough.**

**Please read the author's note at the end of the chapter.**

_I hated the way it felt to run through the sand. My legs were so heavy, so tired. But Edward was just within my grasp and I was desperate to reach him. My movements were torturously slow, but I kept at it with everything I had._

_The faster I tried to run, the more the distance between us grew. The beach stretched and expanded under my feet as though alive, a landscape bursting from its frame._

_As I slogged along in slow motion, a tall ladder covered in starfish burst from the sand, crabs dangling from its rungs. Edward steps didn't falter for even a second as he began to purposefully climb._

_Finally and miraculously I reached the bottom of the ladder, looking up to study Edward's ascent. I was almost paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of urgency. I had to get to him before he went too far._

_I placed my hands on the metal structure, intent on my mission. But my feet were buried in the sand and they wouldn't budge. I struggled to free myself, but it was as if I were trapped in concrete. I extended my arms miserably in a despairing, pleading gesture. _ _But my efforts were fruitless; Edward was already disappearing in the sky far beyond my reach._

I awoke in a sense of panic, my heart galloping in my chest. I was disoriented by the emotional turmoil of my dream, populated by manifestations of all my subconscious fears and anxieties. I kept my eyes squeezed shut while my mind slipped back into the present.

As the fog cleared I realized that I was strangely uncomfortable and I wriggled my body, adjusting my position. I heard a loud intake of breath, my eyes shooting open at the sound. Even though I remembered how we'd ended up falling asleep together in my bed, I was still unbelievably shocked to find Edward's sleeping form next to me.

My feet were pinned under Edward's long legs, completely numb under his weight, but I hesitated to move. I didn't feel ready to wake him. I was worried that he might regret his open honesty, his self-condemning words from the night before. And now in the light of day, those same words felt somehow distant, as if said between two other people, at some far away time.

I didn't know how I was supposed to feel, or to act, now that he'd cleared his conscience and I knew all there was to know. Something had changed between us the night before, but until I looked into his eyes again, I couldn't be certain where we sat.

Rather than moving and pulling my legs out from under him, I laid as still as possible. I collected my thoughts while my eyes hungrily explored Edward's face and body with a freedom that I'd never previously enjoyed.

He looked so innocent, so young as he slept, his lips puckered in a deliciously adorable way. He appeared thoroughly unburdened by the painful secrets he'd been bearing. For almost the hundredth time since the night before, I wished that things could be different. I cursed fate for thrusting us together again when Edward had made it clear the night before that, for the time being, we couldn't be together.

This realization hurt even more as my eyes studied his angular jawline, the heavy scruff from a few days' growth making Edward look more masculine and rugged than I'd ever seen him. I ached to run my fingers across the stubble and down the slope of his straight nose, but I didn't dare wake him.

I needed to relish these few minutes I had before he awoke. I wanted to feel as close to him as I could before we had to part again.

I found myself contemplating the length of his copper-colored eyelashes when he startled me by letting out a little sigh of contentment into the pillow, his arm unconsciously reaching out and grazing the side of my breast. My blood surged at the sound and the tiny flutter of his touch. A tingle of need squeezed at my insides.

Edward was simply perfect to me. I was thinking that I would never get enough of staring at his beauty when the door to my room flew open. All the serenity I was feeling, the delight in my quiet but thorough study of Edward's features was instantly quashed, sucked out the door and into the hallway.

My eyes shot to Tanya who stood in her filmy negligee, her hands on her hips in judgment. "What's going on here?" she asked winsomely.

Edward's eyes flew open, surprised at the abrupt intrusion. He looked at Tanya in adorable confusion before his eyes wandered around the room, taking in his surroundings.

"Go away, Tanya," I grumbled at her, pulling the sheet over both our heads.

"Fine, but you have some explaining to do, Isabella Swan," she warned before slipping back out and closing the door behind her.

Edward groaned tiredly, wiping at his eyes and shifting his weight. He stretched carefully, not disrupting the sheet over our heads, but thankfully, moving his legs off of mine. I felt the painful sting of my limbs reawakening and couldn't resist the urge to shake them out, pounding them against the bed.

Edward chuckled at me, his voice raspy from disuse. "What are you doing?"

"My legs were trapped under yours. They're still asleep," I explained, curling my toes as feeling returned to them.

"Why didn't you move?" he asked, his gaze intense and penetrating. I searched his eyes for regret, hoping once again that Edward didn't regret our night together.

"I don't know," I mumbled honestly. "I just wanted to keep touching you."

"Bella…I want to touch you always…forever," he whispered passionately, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek.

Tears pooled in my eyes, falling into my pillow. His sweet words warmed every part of me.

"Do your roommates always barge into your room like that?" he asked, pulling his hand away slowly.

"Tanya has issues with boundaries. But, I think, she's just worried about me. She and Angela think it's their job to mother me…make sure I make the right decisions."

"What do you think they think of this?" he asked, gesturing between the two of us.

"I think that they are sitting out there in the living room waiting for me to give them more information…to fill in the blanks before they make a judgment. But Edward, I won't tell them anything you don't want me to. I mean, it's not my story to tell," I promised.

"No, Bella, I want you to tell them. They're your friends. You need someone to talk to, someone to help you figure out what you're willing to do."

"Now you sound like the Edward I used to know. Should I write a list of pros and cons?" I teased lightly.

"Hey, are you teasing me, Ms. Swan?" Edward threw the sheet of our heads, grabbed his pillow and hit me on the head with it.

"Argh, now you've done it," I yelled, flinging my pillow at his head, but he anticipated my move, ducking out of my way. My pillow grazed his side, falling limply at his feet.

I lunged to grab it, but I stumbled, falling on top of it. Edward took advantage of my blunder, hocking his pillow across the room toward me. I swerved to miss it, scooping it up from the floor and lobbing both pillows back at him in rapid succession.

He easily plucked them out of the air before they made contact, his eyes flashing deviously at me. "Oh, you're in trouble now," he teased. "You do realize that I have two siblings. I have quite a lot of practice at this game."

He paused, smiling hugely me as I tensed, preparing for another attack. He wound his arm back dramatically as if throwing a football and finally releasing it just as the door creaked open behind me. I looked up to see Angela's shocked expression as the pillow hit her square in the face.

"Oh, sorry," Edward said sheepishly, clearly embarrassed.

"Uh, what _are _you guys doing?" Angela asked, her eyes taking in the scene - my tousled hair, the rumpled sheets.

"Uh," I started speaking. "We, um –"

"Never mind," Angela huffed, spinning on her heels and closing the door behind her.

Edward's smile dropped, his face sobering as he stood and began to start tidying my bed. "I should get going," he said, his voice flat. Our brief interlude of unfettered playfulness was clearly over.

"I know," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. Now that I knew Edward's reasons for the choices he'd made, I had to respect his decision to stay with Heidi. But that didn't mean I had to like it. In fact, I hated it.

If he were any other man, I would surely cut my losses and move on with my life. But this was Edward – the man who had owned my heart from the very beginning. If I were stronger, I'd push him out my door and never see him again. But I couldn't do it.

Intrinsically, deep down, I knew that I would wait forever for Edward. I think I had always been waiting for him. Our lives, our fates were intertwined. Even if I wanted it, I could never let go.

"I wish things were different," he said as we hovered in the doorway.

"I do too," I said, looking directly into his eyes. We didn't touch; it would have made it even more difficult to say goodbye.

"Bella…"

"Just don't…" I interrupted whatever he was going to say. I didn't want any hollow promises. Unless he was going to change his mind, change his words from the night before, I didn't want to hear it.

"I know you have to go," I said. "Please don't say anything more. I can't handle it," I admitted, looking down and away from his tortured expression.

He nodded and stepped through the threshold. I watched him walk down the stairs and across the front walkway to his car. Everything in me told me to run after him, to shout, to yell, to wrap my body around his and never let him go. But instead I watched him walk away again. And like all the times before, a piece of my heart went with him.

"Spill!" Tanya demanded, her jaw set, determination in her eyes. I pushed myself deeper into the soft couch cushions, tucking my knees to my chest.

"Really Bella, you need to let us know what's going on here." Angela's expression wavered between concerned and disappointed. I felt backed into a corner, and my initial reaction to their barrage of questions was to push them away, to pretend that my world hadn't shifted on its axis.

But they were insistent and I knew that they wouldn't give up. And as soon as Edward left I felt the weight of his words hit me. I could stew on what I'd learned 'til the end of time and never make sense of it all. I needed the help of my friends; I needed perspective not clouded by emotion.

"I can't believe he slept here. I feel like we don't even know you. First Garrett and now Edward Cullen. What happened to our Bella?" Tanya mused.

"That's a rhetorical question, right?" I sassed.

Sitting on the opposite side of the couch from me, Tanya answered by kicking me with her foot. Angela was stretched out on the floor facing us, her long legs crossed at the ankles. The bunny slippers on her feet flopped ridiculously each time she tapped her feet.

"Stop getting distracted by my bunnies and tell us," she demanded.

"It's really not at all what I thought…I mean, I don't know where to start," I stammered, biting on my lip anxiously.

"Well, is he or isn't he available? It sure looked like he had a girlfriend the other night. And now he's spending the night with another woman. What have you gotten yourself into?"

I had a hard time looking into Angela's penetrating gaze. She was always so direct. Tanya was no better when she felt that she was facing some kind of injustice. I focused my eyes on the flopping bunnies while I jumped into my explanation.

"He is with her… but not really."

"Oh thank you for that explanation. That clears things up brilliantly." Tanya rolled her eyes, kicking me again in my thigh.

"I can do without the sarcasm."

"Just tell us, Bella. It can't be that bad," Angela prodded.

"Edward is with Heidi, but he doesn't want to be. He feels like he has to stay with her."

"Why?" Tanya jumped in, impatient for me to continue.

"She was pregnant," I blurted, shocked at the sound of the words as they hung in the air.

"What?" they both shouted simultaneously.

"He has a child?" Angela whispered, as if afraid to say the words too loud.

"No," I clarified. "She lost it. At least that's what she _told _Edward."

"Wait… do you think she lied?" Angela asked, her eyes wide with shock.

"Edward wasn't sure, but he wasn't surprised when she said she lost it."

"I doubt that she could get pregnant," Tanya announced. "I've known my share of skinny bitches – anorexics, bulimics, bingers, purgers – none of them even menstruated. It's not natural to be so thin. Our bodies can only take so much abuse, you know?"

"Well, Edward implied something similar. At first he was overwhelmed by her news and panicked. But he said that after he thought more about it that he just didn't believe that she was ever pregnant."

As I spoke, I remembered how pained Edward was when he told me how Heidi had manipulated him, persuading him that he was somehow responsible for her miscarriage. He had twisted his legs around mine in the bed, encasing my hand in his so it rested against his chest. It wasn't until he'd put some distance between them that he had realized that the facts she'd given him just hadn't added up. She was too ambiguous about the details – dates, doctors' names, office visits.

"Why would she do that…why would she lie about being pregnant?" Angela asked wistfully.

"Edward thought that it was initially Aro's idea, and Heidi just kind of…got swept up in the whole thing," I explained. Edward seemed to think that Heidi got so wrapped up in the ruse that she began to believe it was reality.

He kept asserting that Heidi wasn't well, his voice wavering each time he spoke of her. At first I thought that the emotion in his voice showed how much he cared for her, but as I heard more I came to understand the true nature of their relationship.

"You mean that her father – the boat guy – he put her up to it?" Angela asked.

"This is so crazy!" Tanya asserted, tugging at her long curls dramatically. "It's like the plot for a bad lifetime movie."

"Yeah. I mean, who knows why he did it. Edward thinks it has something to do with his mother's family. They're rich, old money snobs that he doesn't even know that well. But I guess Heidi's dad thought the connection was important."

"God I hate all that stupid pretentious social-climbing bullshit," Tanya spat angrily, but nudged me softly with her toes.

"Well, despite their reasons, they screwed up Edward's life," I explained while biting off the jagged nail on my index finger.

"What happened? If Edward suspected that Heidi was lying, why didn't he leave her?" Angela asked.

"He did. I guess he went back home to Forks for a while. I didn't know it then, but he was actually there when I went to visit my Dad and Sue for Thanksgiving."

We were both astounded when we'd made this realization as we held each other in bed. We could have easily run into each other then. I'd even called Esme on that visit and I'd been by to see Rose and Olivia while Emmett was on duty. But somehow we never crossed paths. I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if we had seen each other then. And yet, perhaps it wasn't the right time.

"Edward said that as soon as Heidi discovered that he'd left she started calling obsessively, filling up his voicemail and sending him endless texts."

"Why?" Tanya snarled unsympathetically.

"I don't think she was right in the head, Ton. She thought that she and Edward were a couple because of what they had been through. Edward thought that she truly believed that they were in love and connected. She was living in some sort of fantasy world."

"Did he call her or text her back?" Angela asked.

"No. He ignored her completely. He was even thinking of returning to Forks on a more permanent basis when he got a call from Aro. It turned out that Heidi had…attempted suicide." My voice faltered. I couldn't stop long-buried images from my childhood from flooding my mind. Cold hands. Lifeless eyes. The twisted expression frozen onto my mother's face for all eternity.

"Oh my god!" Angela gasped.

"What happened?" Tanya asked urgently.

"She took a bunch of sleeping pills." I gulped back a sob. Why? Why would she do something so horrible? I felt just as sickened as I did when Edward told me.

I swallowed my emotion and continued. "Apparently, Aro found her in time and took her to the hospital. She did kind of a shoddy job – only really took enough pills to get sick…but…" I paused, swallowing back the bile that surged from my esophagus into my mouth.

"But what?" Angela asked.

"She left a suicide note. It was addressed to Edward and said all kinds of crazy things – like she couldn't live without him and that her life was over if he didn't come back. Aro basically begged Edward to come back…just until she was mentally in a better place. He even offered him fifty thousand dollars."

"Whoa, no shit," Tanya exclaimed.

"He didn't take it, did he?" Angela asked.

"No, of course not," I answered defensively, though I had asked Edward the same question when he had told me of Aro's obvious bribe.

"Good. I think I'm starting to like Edward," Tanya declared.

"But he went back to San Francisco…to her?" Angela asked, scooting closer to me as if sensing I needed the comfort.

"Yes, he went back."

"And he stayed?" Tanya asked.

"Yep. He's been there…with her…living a miserable life…for almost two years now."

"Oh my god. He's sacrificed two years of his life?" Angela gasped.

"He thinks he's responsible for keeping her alive," I explained, my voice weak. How could I not understand his motivation? I'd lived a similar existence for so many years of my life. I knew intimately how it felt to take on such a responsibility. It seemed nearly impossible to climb your way out of such a hole.

"That's just wrong," Tanya said plainly, for once at a loss of words.

"It really is," Angela conceded, wrapping her long fingers around my hand. "You poor baby. You finally fall for a guy and his situation is just so…so fucked up."

"Let's get out of here," Tanya suggested. "Go get some chow down at the diner? Come on!" she demanded as she tugged on my arms until I was standing.

As I shuffled to my room to get dressed I marveled that I didn't feel quite so despondent anymore. Talking to my friends, telling them Edward's story, made it all so much clearer in my mind. And strangely, I felt better.

Even though I dragged, feeling worn and sluggish after such an emotional night, I rummaged through my clothes for a nice outfit. Somehow, I thought dressing up a little might make me feel better. I slipped into a pair of my favorite black skinny jeans and a white, linen wrap shirt that hugged my body and made me feel feminine and girly. To finish off my outfit I put on my tall, brown riding boots that made my legs seem longer.

Before leaving my room I scrutinized my face in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy, evidence that I'd spent my night in tears. As I put concealer under my eyes and painted my lips with a pale pink lip gloss, I was taken back to those last few moments before I fell asleep and I felt the heaviness in my heart return as I remembered Edward's solemn words.

Just before sleep overcame me, I'd mumbled the final question that haunted my mind, tugging on my consciousness and keeping me from succumbing to my exhaustion. "Edward?"

"Yes Bella?"

"Why are you here? I mean, why aren't you with Heidi right now? Won't she realize that you're not there – at your hotel… with her?"

"Don't worry, Bella. She won't even notice I'm gone. She probably won't even wake up until noon tomorrow."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity waking me up.

"When she's stressed she takes sleeping pills…and sometimes other drugs."

"But is that safe?" I blurted, shifting in Edward's arms. "I mean, aren't you worried?"

"Yes, I'm always worried. But I can't do much about it. Her doctor won't prescribe her meds anymore, but she has ways of getting them anyway. In fact, I'm pretty sure she got some from her friend, Jean. When I got to the hotel earlier, Jean and some other friends of hers were there. They all seemed pretty high," he offered in such a nonchalant way that I could tell he wasn't surprised by this behavior.

"So…she takes drugs all the time?" I asked, trembling at the thought.

"I throw them out when I find them. But she just gets more," he explained, seemingly resigned to the horror of his reality.

"How?" I wondered, not even realizing that I had verbalized my thoughts.

"You can get anything if you have enough money. Money allows you to buy a slow death if you want it."

I blanched at his jaded tone, and more than ever I wanted to save him. Save him from the darkness in his life. Save him from Heidi and her demons.

After Edward had finished telling me the entire sordid mess, I cried. I cried for Heidi, I cried for Edward, and I cried for myself.

I had more I wanted to ask him. I needed more of an explanation. But my body's need to rest won out in the end and I fell into a deep sleep, held tightly and safely in Edward's arms.

"God, I wish I didn't love these homefries so much!" Tanya moaned, shoveling a ketchup-covered bite of potatoes into her mouth. "They're going right to my hips," she sighed.

"Honey, your hips are perfect," Angela drawled, gazing lovingly at Tanya.

Normally I tuned out their affectionate banter, but after such an intense night, their exchange hit me deeply. Why was I alone? Why couldn't love be easy for me? I'd witnessed profound and powerful love in so many of those around me: Tanya and Angela, Alice and Jasper, Esme and Carlisle, Rosalie and Emmett, and even Charlie and Sue.

I recognized true love when I saw it in others. I knew now that Edward was not in love with Heidi. And this knowledge somehow made it hurt even more that he was still with her and not with me. I couldn't help my selfish feelings of anger, loss and frustration.

"Bella? Did you hear anything I just said?" Tanya asked, clearly frustrated with my distracted state. "I asked you if you were feeling better?"

"Bella, sweetie, we're here for you, you know that?" Angela asked gently, rubbing my arm.

"Yes. Thanks for everything guys…for listening. I do feel better," I reassured them. "I just still need to process it all, you know? It's all so muddled up in my head. I really don't know where I stand now or what to do," I admitted.

"It seems like there's really not much you can do. Unless Edward decides to leave the skinny chick, he's off limits. You don't have a lot of options, Bella," Tanya stated plainly.

I looked down into my bowl of gooey oatmeal despondently. Tanya cut to the quick, getting right to the point. There was nothing I could do. Edward wasn't mine. And until he felt he could leave Heidi, it would be pointless for me to pine over him. I could hope. I could wish. But he hadn't made any promises to me and I couldn't have any expectations for the future.

I swirled my spoon around the bowl listlessly. I had no appetite. I don't know why I even ordered oatmeal. I don't like it unless it has a large scoop of brown sugar and butter mixed into it, but I'd forgotten to order it the way I liked. I forced a mouthful of the bland stuff into my mouth. I was thinking that I needed something to look forward to, some nugget of hope to grasp onto when my cell phone rang.

When I saw Edward's name pop up on the screen, I nearly choked. My eyes flickered up to see my friends staring, eager and anxious for me to answer.

"Edward?" I answered, my voice wavering.

"Bella? I just had to hear your voice again. Last night seemed like a dream. I had to call you to make sure it was real."

"It was. I don't think I could have made all that up," I replied, unsure of where we stood.

"I feel like I didn't get to say everything that I wanted to. I just need you to know that if things were different…if the circumstances were changed…that…well, I'd do anything to be with you. I want to be with you, Bella. Holding you in my arms last night…that was incredible. It was the best night of my life."

Even though my two friends were watching me, scrutinizing my expression, I couldn't hold back the emotion that his confession awakened in me. I gulped, trying to stem my tears, not able to find my voice.

"Bella?"

"I'm here," I mumbled, allowing the tears to stream down my cheeks.

"Bella," Angela said with concern as she moved her chair closer to mine, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

"I have to go. Can I call you again or do you…want me to leave you alone?"

I didn't care how pathetic it made me, but I wanted whatever little bit I could get from Edward. Spending time with him, touching him, hearing his story, all of it only made me want him more.

"Yes, of course," I whispered passionately. "I want you to call."

"Good," he said, relieved. "I'm addicted to you, Bella. I need to hear your voice."

His words were both seductive and painful. They thrilled me and pierced me all at once.

"Oh, I forgot. There's another reason I'm calling. I talked to Alice this morning. And I tried to cull her curiosity, but I don't think I was successful. I didn't tell her any more than was necessary, but she's pretty frustrated with me right now. And she's determined to talk with you. She's probably going to badger you until she sees you. I just wanted to warn you. I'm sorry Bella," he said contritely.

"Oh. Thanks for the warning."

The phone went silent. I wasn't sure he was still on the line. I was struggling to think of an appropriate goodbye when I heard Edward sigh.

"Bella, I don't want to say goodbye," he said, as if plucking the thought from my mind. " But I have to take Heidi to breakfast. She'll be out of the bathroom in a few minutes."

His mention of Heidi immediately jolted me back to reality. The shift in the atmosphere was so dramatic it felt like a slap in the face. All of a sudden, I was anxious to end the call. I was about to respond when my phone beeped, alerting me to a call on the other line.

"I have to go," I announced to Edward with no emotion.

"Oh…okay," he stammered. "Bye Bella."

"Goodbye Edward," I managed to blurt before clicking to the other line.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Bella, we need to talk," Alice demanded and I exhaled heavily, knowing that it was likely I was in for another heavy conversation. "Like right now," she added and I detected a slight tremor in her voice. Had she been crying?

**A few of you had guessed that something of this nature was going on with Heidi – I hope that this chapter explains some of Edward's behavior in a satisfactory way. My beta informed me that there is one and possibly more stories out there circulating that have a similar plot structure. However, I intended the story to develop this way since the beginning. **

**Edward's situation is loosely based on the very real relationship between my brother-in-law and his former girlfriend. I think it's important for all fiction to have some basis in real events. We writers can't help but draw on our own lives and those of our friends and family. What happened to my brother-in-law was very intense and very tragic and I borrowed his story for this plot because it so aptly exemplifies how unhealthy and toxic relationships can be when they are based on deception and manipulation. **

**This story has always been one of evolution and transformation. There is a great contrast between Edward's relationship with Heidi and the one that he has potential to have with Bella. There is a true irony in this story in that Edward himself is a student of human psychology, and yet allows himself to be trapped by the binds of his conscience. He should know - at least better than the average person -that no one can save someone who is unwilling to save themselves. Perhaps, Bella will help him finally understand this.**

**Please review! It's been a while since I've heard from some of you and it would warm my heart to know that you're still out there and still reading. Even just a smiley would make my day. I'll count them and let you know how many I got.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Ready for the next installment of Second Chances? Have I given you enough time to analyze the story from all angles? **

**So many of you were either irritated or angered by Edward's behavior in the last chapter. I know that he seems like a bit of a pussy at this point in the story. However, he hasn't really been living. Both Edward and Bella have not been making conscious choices, instead they've been allowing life to unfold around them. They are both simply existing, not really embracing life. It is only when they are together that they feel alive and inspired. They need each other. **

**And Edward is beginning to wake up.**

**Thank you for sticking with me through this journey! I hope you are all still enjoying it.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. Not me.**

Alice refused to tell me why she was crying over the phone. Between hiccupping sobs, she asked me if I'd come over to her house. I didn't have to think before responding; I was already grabbing my purse and my keys before I hung up the phone.

As I drove, my mind was flooded with all the many possible reasons that would make her upset enough to cry. Could she be so angry with me that she was moved to tears? Had something else happened…to Jasper or…to Edward?

As soon as this thought came to mind, I reasoned that if someone had been hurt she would have told me instantly. Despite that reassurance, I was so filled with anxiety at the thought that I drove thoughtlessly, pushing on the brake pedal abruptly at all the lights, taking turns sharply and driving way too fast in the sleepy family neighborhoods between our houses.

I knew that I was going to have to prepare for a confrontation with Alice regarding Edward and that she deserved an explanation, but I was in no way prepared for the torrent of emotion that Alice showed on the phone. By the time I pulled up to the curb in front of her house, I'd resolved that there had to be something else – something more – that was affecting her so deeply.

I took a few steadying breaths before opening the door to my car. I couldn't help feeling a sense of trepidation as I approached her door. I didn't know what to expect or how painful this "talk" would be. My hand was noticeably shaking as I raised it to knock on the door.

I didn't have to wait longer than a few seconds before the door swiftly flew open. I briefly caught a flash of blond hair before I felt a little body collide with my legs and short but surprisingly strong arms clamp themselves around me.

"Bella! Bella! I missed you so much," a sweet voice mumbled into my legs and I reached down to lift Olivia into my arms.

"Oh Sweetie, I missed you so much too," I said as I nuzzled my nose into her hair, inhaling her clean, perfect little-girl scent. "I didn't know you were here," I added with some astonishment, my mood instantly brightening.

"Mama made me get up soooo early. It was still dark out. And we drove here in her fast car," she explained.

"You did? Ooh, I bet that was a fun adventure," I prodded as I hugged her to my body, relishing the feeling of having her in my arms after so much time.

"Uh huh, and we got breakfast at McDonalds," she beamed.

"You're so lucky," I responded, trying to imagine Rosalie sitting in a sticky booth at McDonalds, drinking sour coffee and eating an Egg McMuffin. I shook the incongruous thought from my head as I began to make my way through the house, Olivia still perched on my hip.

"Where's your mommy and Aunt Alice?" I asked curiously.

"They've been in Aunt Alice's bedroom ever since we got here. Aunt Alice is sad," she whimpered uncertainly, nuzzling her face into my neck. "And Mommy put on Sound of Music for me to watch. I yelled at her to fast-forward through the boring part, but she was too busy," she said with an adorable pout.

As we moved down the hall, I became aware of muffled voices, pregnant with emotion and growing louder and more distinct with each step. I tried to pick out some of their words, but Olivia led me to a small guest room where I lowered her to the floor near a pile of luggage that had yet to be unpacked.

"Oh this is my favorite," she exclaimed, fixing her eyes on the small television that sat on top of an antique dresser. I followed her gaze to see the Von Trapp children running through the streets of Salzburg singing _Do-Re-Mi , _and wearing outfits their nanny, Maria, had somehow miraculously crafted from the curtains in her room.

Olivia's interest was immediately captured. She climbed up on the daybed and began to watch, her lips mouthing the words of the song.

I had a vague memory of my mother teaching me the words to this song while I sat in her lap. I must have been very young because I remember how big she seemed as I burrowed into her chest. I'd felt safe there in her arms. I wished that I had truly appreciated these special moments. I hadn't known then that there would be so few of them.

"I'm going to go find your mom and Aunt Alice, baby," I told Olivia as I pushed the memory aside and tip-toed out of the room. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the television screen.

I made my way down the hall, past the bathroom and the empty living room toward the back of the house. As I passed by, I glanced at the loveseat where Edward had been sitting with Heidi at his side only a few days before, marveling how much had changed since that first reunion.

Though I could no longer hear any voices, I kept walking until I reached the end of the hall. I stopped in front of a door that was slightly ajar. I knocked lightly before tentatively pushing it open, peeking my head into the room.

Two sets of saddened eyes peered at me from the bed where Rosalie had her long, slender arm draped around Alice's tiny shoulders. My stomach dropped as I took in Alice's defeated pose, her bloodshot eyes and swollen eyelids.

Rosalie's eyes narrowed perceptively as she measured my agitation. Her mouth curled into a small smile at me as she beckoned me forward with her hand. "Bella, I'm so glad you're here," she said and I felt a burst of warmth from her. She always had a way of immediately putting me at ease and I was incredibly thankful for her calming presence.

I scooted up on the bed, facing Alice. I crossed my legs, reaching out to take her hand in mine. "Alice…sweetie, what happened?" I asked in what I hoped was a gentle, encouraging voice, though I was afraid to hear the cause of her pain. I braced myself to face her words, knowing that she deserved for me to be sensitive to her needs and feelings, just as she had always been to mine.

"I…I…I'm just so sad. Yesterday, I was so happy and now…I'm so sad. Why did this happen?" she wailed, fresh tears falling down her face. Her grasp on my hand tightened as her body shuddered with emotion.

"Alice, whatever it is, I'm here for you," I squeaked, my voice breaking. I felt tears gather in my own eyes at the sight of her so broken. "Let me help you," I begged, wishing that I knew how to take away her pain. I wanted to be strong for her; I wanted to be there for her like she'd always been for me.

"Oh Bella, I lost her," she sobbed, her body crumbling before me. Rose immediately pulled her tighter, while I rubbed my hands along her arms. Rose's gaze found mine, her aura of strength giving me the confidence and courage I needed.

"Who Alice? Who did you lose?" I whispered.

"My baby," she blurted, gulping. "Oh God, I lost my baby." Her eyes met mine and I saw the full depth of her sorrow. I looked to Rosalie and she nodded her head at me, confirming Alice's words.

"You were pregnant?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't believe it. It had never crossed my mind, and yet, I remembered that Alice had been so anxious to tell me something since she'd arrived in Seattle. And clearly it was something she hadn't wanted to reveal at her dinner party in front of everyone else. She'd been trying to tell me that she was pregnant and I hadn't given her the chance. And now… well, everything had changed.

Alice's tears continued to fall while we supported her as well as we could. I felt the reality of the situation hit me, my mind filled with questions that I knew Alice wasn't ready to answer. I wondered how far along she'd been in her pregnancy, and who had known about it. Did Edward know?

"She was only twelve weeks along. She hadn't told anyone yet," Rosalie explained, answering my unspoken questions. "She'd begged Edward to come visit so that she could tell him in person. They were supposed to get together last night and she was going to tell him, but well…" She didn't finish her statement, her eyes questioning me, her look making it clear that we would be talking about why Edward was with me instead of Alice.

I threw Rosalie a guilty look before averting my eyes. The realization that Edward had planned to spend the night with his sister and changed his plans to be with me stabbed at my heart. She needed him and I was just a distraction. I'd never felt so selfish before.

"It's better that he didn't know. Maybe I won't even tell him," Alice muttered coldly, her tears slowing.

"Alice, the family needs to know…so that they can understand why you are suffering and they can help you," Rosalie advised with calm certainty.

"Mom will be devastated. And Jasper…" Alice sputtered. "He was so happy when I told him about the baby. He immediately proposed. I couldn't wait to tell you, Bella. I knew you'd be so happy for me. You were the first person I thought of telling. Now I don't even know if he still wants to get married." I grabbed a handful of tissues from the nightstand, pushing them into her hand as more tears began to stream from her eyes.

"Of course he does," Rosalie assured her.

"Where is he?" I whispered my question to Rosalie, but Alice answered.

"I'm not sure where he went," she admitted. "He left when Rosalie and Olivia got here. He held me all night after it…happened. I know the whole thing freaked him out. He was afraid of all the blood so he called my midwife. I think he hoped that she would say that I was wrong…that the baby was okay. But she…she didn't…she told him that she was sorry and there wasn't anything…anything she could do.

"She told us to go to the hospital just to be safe. And it was horrible. My midwife couldn't even come into the operating room. I'll spare you all the gruesome details, but I just pray that I never have to go through that again. Thank god Rose made it here this morning. I think…I think Jasper needed a break," she squeaked, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I just don't understand why…why this happened, you know. I mean why my baby?" Alice moaned. Her grief was so palpable I felt it as my own.

"I don't know, Alice," I replied pathetically, knowing that there was no answer to her question.

"Maybe your baby wasn't ready to be born yet. I'd like to believe that things in our lives happen for a reason. And well, it just wasn't your baby's time to be in this world yet. That doesn't mean that you can't try again," Rosalie reasoned. Alice quieted, absorbing her words, allowing them to comfort her.

We took her cue and allowed a soothing silence to enfold our trio, while a chaos of thoughts – some sorrowful and a few hopeful – consumed my mind. Though Rosalie's words of wisdom helped to make sense of what had happened, I put myself in Alice's place and I didn't doubt that she would continue to suffer.

I was startled from my thoughts when I heard the front door open and heavy footsteps approaching. I jumped up from the bed, wiping the wetness from my eyes. "I'll check," I offered simply before heading down the hall.

I entered the living room just as a very tired and distressed Jasper stumbled through the archway, followed by Edward and Heidi. Jasper stepped forward without a word, putting his hand to my shoulder before disappearing down the hallway behind me.

I didn't spare a second to address Heidi before I sought Edward's gaze. His eyes locked to mine instantly and I knew at once that he'd learned everything from Jasper and was devastated by the knowledge.

As I peered into his green eyes, their edges softened by tears, I realized that he was allowing me to really see him, stripped bare and vulnerable. He was trusting me - trusting me with his heart. My shoulders dropped at the look of utter pain in his eyes and I couldn't fight the surge of pure, raw emotion that overtook my body. There was no use denying the intrinsic, _basic_ need to be closer to him.

Just as soon as the sensation hit me, Edward began to move forward automatically. I dared to hope that he was feeling the same overwhelming pull towards me as he took several long, determined strides across the room, and without any hesitation, enfolded me in his arms. It didn't matter that we weren't alone, or what obstacles stood in our way, we needed to touch.

I felt like I could breathe deeply for the first time since Alice had told me her sad news. I was safe in his arms and it felt natural for him to hold me, to comfort me. I pressed my cheek into his chest, inhaling his scent. Without thinking, I flattened my palm against his back, crushing him infinitely closer, holding him as tightly as my arms would allow. I never wanted to let him go.

He held me equally firmly, as if supporting me, preventing my collapse. But I yearned just as much to support him, to comfort him. He exhaled shakily, his hand moving to my neck, cupping my cheek.

"Bella," he whispered, his lips grazing my ear and I sensed with all my being that at that moment, he needed me even more than I needed him. I shut my eyes tightly, resolved to relish the warmth of his embrace as long as I could.

But unfortunately the moment was too short. It wasn't Heidi who caused Edward to stiffen and pull away, but it was Rosalie's hand that came down on Edward's arm, gently tugging to get his attention.

"Bella, I need to see you," she said in an unexpectedly judgmental tone as Edward stumbled backward, his face registering both shock and annoyance at her interruption.

I felt a strong, heady wave of heat flood my body as Edward and I separated, which felt like passion for him at first, but twisted and churned in my gut until I was left with a tingling emptiness. I turned to look at Rosalie's stern expression and felt properly chastised, my face reddening.

"Bella," Rosalie prodded, grabbing my arm as I turned like a magnet back to Edward. I followed his eyes to Heidi who stood limply at the edge of the room, appearing unaffected by our show of affection toward one another. I was forced to wonder yet again at the superficial bonds that tied them together.

"Edward, Alice needs you," Rosalie whispered at him fervently, urging him toward the bedroom and trying to somehow smooth the awkward tension in the room. As Edward moved away, Heidi slumped down into the couch, pulling her phone out of her purse. Rosalie took this as a cue to leave, tugging me down the hallway behind her as though I were a child.

We ended up in the room with Olivia, who was sitting on the floor, magazines spread around her. She had a pair of scissors in one hand, engrossed in cutting out a picture and adding it to a messy pile of clippings.

"Look Mommy, pretty dresses!" she exclaimed as she noticed us, holding up a picture of a bride in a puffy, white wedding dress.

"Oh no! Are those Alice's wedding magazines?" Rosalie asked, bending to get a closer look. "Baby, these aren't our magazines. And where'd you get those scissors?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned a harried eye to me, adding, "Let's get out of here for a little while. We need to have a talk anyway."

"Put the scissors down, sweetheart. We're going to take you somewhere fun, okay?"

"Okay," Olivia agreed, jumping up quickly and slipping her hand into mine. "Bella's coming too, right?" she asked, already pulling me along out the doorway with her.

I was content to listen to Olivia sing along to her favorite CD on the stereo on the short drive through town, not thinking or questioning where we were going. Her tinkling, little voice as she sang along with Jack Skellington on the soundtrack to _The Nightmare Before Christmas _both calmed and distracted me from the seriousness of the morning_._

"I heard about this place from a client. She has twin boys and needs to tire them out to keep sane," Rosalie explained as we pulled into a large parking lot in the industrial side of town. I scanned the building to see a big neon sign with a clown jumping on a trampoline.

As I pulled my sluggish body from the car, I tried to figure out just where we were. I followed along at Olivia's meandering pace, my nerves beginning to settle in, making my movements sharp and stiff. In my mind, I kept seeing the look Rosalie threw at me as she pulled me away from Edward, a mixture of concern and disappointment. Maybe with a touch of _pity? _Needless to say, I was wary of Rosalie's motives.

"Ready Livy?" Rosalie looked down at her daughter lovingly as she placed her hand on her back, ushering her tiny frame through a door into a large warehouse space.

"Yeah," Olivia replied, rolling up onto her toes excitedly.

The energy in the large room was electrified, little excited bodies running around a variety of big, colorful inflated structures that were crammed into every square inch of floor space. I watched Olivia take in her surroundings as Rosalie approached a counter with her wallet out. As soon as she figured out what the other kids were up to, Olivia didn't wait for permission, but kicked off her shoes in the middle of the pathway and took off running toward a large bouncy castle.

"Well, that's that," Rosalie replied as soon as her eyes landed on her daughter and determined that she was happily jumping away. She scooped up Olivia's shoes, placing them neatly in the provided wooden cubby.

"She should be occupied for a while," she declared, sitting on a brightly-painted, yellow, metal bench where a few other haggard-looking parents were scattered about, their focus only partially on supervising their kids.

We settled on bench near the far edge of the room, the squeals and giggles of the kids providing a diverting backdrop to our imminent conversation. I tuned out the noise as I watched Rosalie cross one of her long legs over the other while she fumbled around in her handbag. Her flaxen blond hair was pulled back in her characteristically tight ponytail, without a hair out of place. She looked as elegant and as strategically put together as she always did. And yet, after years of knowing her – of observing her quiet, well-crafted poise – I could tell she was rattled.

This realization made me even more nervous, if possible. My hands, all of a sudden became restless. I found myself twirling my hair around my finger – a gesture I hadn't resorted to since I was young and had much less self-confidence.

"Bella," Rosalie huffed, finally turning her gaze to me. "I…I'm worried," she admitted and my stomach dropped at her words. I felt the air rush out of my lungs, making it impossible to respond.

"Last night was like a roller-coaster. I haven't been so confused and yanked around mentally since the trial," she admitted. I was shocked at her words – that she would willingly bring up something so personally painful to her. I immediately understood that she was dead serious, automatically reaching out to grasp her hand comfortingly.

"Alice called me twice last night. The second time she called it was nearly three in the morning. She was completely distraught. It took nearly ten minutes of incoherent babbling and crying before Jasper grabbed the phone and told me about the miscarriage. I didn't even have time to process what had happened before I pulled Olivia out of bed, buckled her into her car seat, and just starting driving here. I didn't even call Em until I was on the road.

"To be honest, I hadn't been able to sleep anyway because of Alice's first call. It was around nine and I had just put Livy to bed. I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when the phone rang. I thought it was Emmett because he usually calls when he's working the night shift to say goodnight to me before I go to bed." I smiled at the thought of Emmett. He was such a considerate husband. Rosalie deserved no less.

"Alice really doesn't call me that often. You know how she tends to keep things to herself," she stated and I nodded in agreement. "I think she's always felt under scrutiny growing up – like she was part of some grand psychological experiment - with both a father and older brother constantly analyzing her. And then when I came along…well, she didn't exactly open up to me."

I remembered Alice admitted something similar to me when we were in high school. Every time she dyed her hair, ripped up her clothing, or spent too much time alone in her room, her father tried to label her behavior as a sign of some kind of psychological condition. She used to complain that she was living under a microscope.

Once, when Alice was going through a particularly weird phase – which included painting the walls in her room a stark white, wearing white clothing that she'd covered in swirling chaotic patterns in black India Ink, and eating only white foods - Carlisle even went so far as to prescribe her anti-depressants. But, like everything else with Alice, it was just an expression of her uniqueness. It was her way of incorporating her art into her life.

"Usually when Alice calls, she just wants to talk to Livy. So naturally, I was confused at her timing," Rosalie said, bringing me back to the present, my gut wrenching at Alice's pain. Her tears were foremost on my mind and I wondered if we shouldn't be getting back to her.

My eyes searched for Olivia and found her sliding down a wide, steep slide on one of the inflatable structures, her face alight with joy. Somehow her happiness eased the ache in my heart just a little. I was so glad that Rosalie and Emmett were giving her a wonderful childhood. She would never feel unwanted. She would never feel unloved.

"She was calling about you, Bella," Rosalie explained earnestly. "She was…concerned. She said that she thought that something was going on between you and Edward." Rosalie took a deep breath and continued. "She said that Edward had asked for your address and was headed to your house to spend the night with you."

"Um," I mumbled, trying to clear my thoughts. "Yeah, we needed to talk," I explained lamely.

"Look Bella, I've always known about your feelings for Edward. And though you've only hinted at how deep your feelings run, I think I've got an idea." She shifted uneasily on the metal bench.

I couldn't deny her words. She'd seen me at my worst, been there to comfort me, and had helped me to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart and move on with my life. I owed Rosalie the truth. I needed to speak it aloud, to own my feelings.

"I'm not sure what's been happening between you two this week, but I saw the way he looked at you this morning and…well, it wasn't sisterly," she expounded, looking straight into my eyes.

"But you know he's with Heidi right now," she demanded, without stopping her diatribe. "And for Christ sakes, she was _right there_. Granted, she didn't seem to even care when he just about rubbed his entire body against you. But that doesn't change your behavior. You can't flaunt your feelings in front of her. It's not right."

"I understand…I do," she affirmed. "I know you've waited for a long time. And I always kind of suspected that you were the reason that Edward left in the first place," she admitted and I couldn't stifle a gasp. I looked down at my fingers guiltily as she delved right to the point, stripping away all pretext.

"But he's still with _her._ He's not free. He's made his choice, Bella. And you need to live with that. Do you really want him this way?" Her words seared me. They were honest and they hurt. The truth hurt. He wasn't free to love me. He'd chosen her. And despite his reasons – whether honorable or essentially irrational – he was going home with her.

"I don't know what I'm doing," I admitted in a small voice, my head hanging. "Why can't I have him? He's the only one…the only one I've ever wanted…that I'll ever want."

"Oh Bella," Rosalie sighed, scooting closer so that she could put her arm around my shoulder. I leaned into her slightly, wanting to absorb the comfort she offered.

"Why can't I be happy, Rose?" I asked pathetically.

"Oh honey, you can. You really can," she promised emphatically. "You need to learn to be happy without him. It's the only way." She squeezed her arm tighter as Olivia came barreling into her other side, skidding to a stop.

"I'm tired, Mommy," she said, her face and chest shiny with sweat.

"Okay Livy, go get your shoes over there," Rosalie said as she pointed to the cubby.

"Okay," she chirped as she skipped back across the room. Rosalie turned quickly back to me, not yet finished talking.

"Bella, after seeing him with you this morning, there is no doubt in my mind about his feelings for you. I really can't imagine he'll be with Heidi much longer."

"You don't know the whole story, Rosalie. It's complicated," I lamented.

"Well, even though I don't know the whole story, I still believe he won't be with her forever. You need to work on _you_ in the meantime. And you need to wait for the right time. Because that's the way it has to be. You're not the kind of girl to mess around with someone who is taken. You're better than that!" she cried with feeling.

"I know," I agreed weakly.

"Do you?" she asked seriously.

"Yes," I said with more feeling.

"Good," she responded as she turned toward Olivia who was clomping awkwardly across the room back toward us, her shoes on the wrong feet.

Remorse was exhausting. It tugged on all your organs – your stomach, your heart, your brain – and wore you down. I felt heavy and slow and empty. I could see the same weariness reflected on the face's around me. We were a household full of sadness.

And though Edward was near – he'd hardly left Alice's side all day – for once, I didn't feel the insane need to stare at him or touch him or even talk with him. All my focus instead was on Alice and Jasper and on brightening, however inadequately, an otherwise dark episode in their lives.

Rosalie and I spent hours in the kitchen, making snacks for everyone and casseroles for later. Rosalie took charge, even putting Olivia to work, directing me when I otherwise had no direction. We worked robotically, our emotions so raw that even the smallest trigger could generate a new round of silent tears.

I was happy to be busy, but I couldn't completely keep my mind from returning to Alice. Occasionally, she would appear in the kitchen. Her tears had subsided, but she looked like she was barely holding it together as she shuffled around, feigning interest in the food we were making.

Her hand never left her stomach, as if she'd forgotten that there was no longer a child growing there. Or perhaps it was her way of remembering, of memorializing the baby that never got to see the world. Regardless of her reasons, it was hard to see her hand there.

In the afternoon, I found myself sitting on the couch with Alice's head in my lap. I ran my fingers loosely through her hair as we both pretended to concentrate on the movie currently playing on the television. I didn't have to concentrate on the dialogue to know what was going on anyway. I'd seen _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ many times – the first time being in the theater with Alice. We'd only known each other for a short time when she asked me to go to the movies with her, insisting that we dress up as the characters.

Indulging her, I made a makeshift cape out of an old sheet I found in the attic. I'd made the effort to cut it to the right length and dye it purple. I found a sturdy twig, holding it in my hand like a wand, thinking that I'd impress Alice with the lengths I'd gone to create my costume.

Alice, however, put my meager attempt to shame. Instead of dressing like Hermione or Harry, Alice dressed up as a wizard from the house of Slytherin, complete with a ridiculously sexy, plaid, green, skirt, fishnet stockings, a fitted black vest that emphasized her tiny, but curvy body, and a long, black, tailored robe with green satin lining. The back of the robe had a very large and extremely detailed replica of the Slytherin crest. Her wand wasn't a twig, but was a smooth, dark green stick, tipped with silver.

As I comforted my friend I remembered back to that time and thought of all the many ways in which she'd enriched my life. Alice taught me to have expectations for my future, broadening my narrow horizons by introducing me to her unique perspective of the world. She showed me how to feel joy and to embrace life in a way that I never thought possible for me and I loved her for it.

She never did anything half-way, but dove in head-first without any fear. Though she sometimes overwhelmed me, I always wished I could be more like her.

I lifted my eyes to the television screen as my favorite scene of the movie came on. Though frightened, Harry begrudgingly mounts the Hippogriff, Buckbeak, and they take off flying over the grounds of Hogwarts, swooping down towards the water of the massive lake. I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I watched Harry's fingers dip daringly into the water, but Heidi's high-pitched voice in the background drew my attention away.

She was pouting at Edward while he scowled back at her in frustration. He seemed to be trying to persuade her that they needed to stay. I caught his gaze as he looked in our direction, the need to be there for his sister clearly evident in his expression. They were speaking loud enough that I couldn't help overhearing their conversation. I wished, for Alice's sake, that they were more discreet.

"Really Edward, do we need to be here any longer? She doesn't need you. Look, she has her little friends here," Heidi whined. "I truly can't be expected to sit here and watch TV with these people all day," she huffed.

"Yes, you can. You can do this for me," he pleaded, sitting down purposefully at Alice's feet, drawing them into his lap. Alice let out a little groan of pleasure as he began to gently rub them while petulantly ignoring Heidi's glare. Heidi huffed again loudly, sinking dejectedly into a chair at the edge of the room.

I fought the impulse to look at Edward as we both consoled Alice, rubbing her pain away. For the second time, I was struck with the sensation that Alice was like a conduit, connecting Edward to me. But this time, I resisted the feeling, almost as if damming the energy between us.

I couldn't hide from Rosalie's words. Her opinion always had a very powerful effect on me. I respected her more than any other woman and I knew that, in this case especially, she was right. I had to pull away from Edward. I couldn't succumb to my basest desires. I had to be strong and resist him.

It was torture not to give into the urge to simply look, to just sneak a glimpse into his piercing, green eyes. I could feel his gaze on me, heating me from the inside out. But I knew that even one look was dangerous. Even one look was too much.

My body stiffened with the effort it took to remain stoic. Alice wriggled on the couch, lifting her head to peer upward at me. My expression must have alerted her to something, because she shifted her little body until she was sitting upright.

"Are you okay?" she whispered to me, her eyes flitting to mine, then to Edward's and passing quickly over to Heidi who was sulking in the corner.

I was about to answer when a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. My stomach rumbled anxiously as I looked toward the hall to see a frazzled looking Esme bound into the room determinedly. As soon as their eyes locked, Esme darted forward toward Alice, embracing her as only a mother could.

"Mommy," Alice cried, a shuddering sob tearing from her chest and a fresh round of tears began to fall from her already red, swollen eyes.

**Thank you so much for choosing to read this story! It's heavy, but real. And love will prevail – I promise.**


	35. Chapter 35

**I owe you an apology! It was never my intention to put this story on hiatus. My summer had two very distinct faces. First, I succumbed to summer laziness, opting to read obsessively instead of write. Secondly, my children became demanding, little savages that sapped all my energy and sucked out all my creativity. I literally couldn't carve out a quiet spot in my house to write peacefully without being invaded by hungry/hot/bored kids every few minutes.**

**Despite this, I never gave up thinking of Second Chances and I promise that I will never abandon this story. I am a very goal oriented person – I have a compulsive need to finish tasks and cross them off lists. So never worry that I won't complete the story. **

**On a brighter note, now that the kids are back in school, I find that I have a bit more free time and with you in mind, I've scheduled specific blocks in my day to write fanfiction and get these two sad lovebirds to their happy ending.**

**Again, thank you so much for all your support and for sticking with me. I will try and be better. **

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't.**

Olivia's little lips puckered in her sleep, her fingers flexing around the tattered stuffed bunny in her arms. I placed a bookmark in the open page of the book in my lap and carefully slid off the edge of the bed.

Though peaceful in the room – enough for the little sweet girl to drift easily into sleep – I was anxious and unsettled. As I placed the fat, illustrated volume of Lewis Carroll's _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ down on the nightstand, my trembling hands betrayed my anxiety.

Of course it made sense that I should watch over Olivia while the family – Rose, Edward, Jasper, and now Esme and Carlisle - converged around Alice, sharing in her pain, comforting her, giving her the support and love she needed. I'd even volunteered for the job, feeling like I needed both the distance and the escape from the family circle that – despite my deep longing to – I'd never completely belonged in.

And even though I'd offered, the quiet room felt like a soft-celled prison. Olivia's sleepy murmurs and tiny breaths only served to heighten my discomfort by comparison. I'd purposely separated myself from Edward, from Esme, from Rose's sympathetic judgment, even from Alice's remorse. But in my self-imposed exile I wanted nothing more than to be a true Cullen.

I sat down in the small-framed antique wicker chair, tucked like an afterthought in the corner of the room, dropping my head to my knee and rubbing my tired eyes with the flesh of my palms. How had I gotten myself into this mess? I wanted nothing more than to leave the room and join the others. I yearned for the feel of Edward's strong arms, the solidity of the firm muscles of his chest and on his back.

But I couldn't give in to what my heart most yearned for. Rose was right. I deserved more than to accept stolen kisses in darkened hallways. My mind accepted this, but my heart was breaking. Knowing that Edward was so close, yet so unavailable was pure torture. And knowing that Heidi was out there with them, while I was acting as a babysitter - separated by what felt like much more than a closed door - was almost too much to bear.

It did not escape my notice that Esme did not great Heidi with much warmth. When Carlisle entered the room and Esme had finally stepped back from her long and gentle embrace of Alice, she didn't hesitate to turn toward me and with a whispered, but heartfelt greeting, pulled me into her arms. Esme gave the best hugs. They never failed to warm me from head to toe.

When Heidi stalked forward, seemingly alert for the first time in many hours, Esme simply nodded with a tight-lipped smile before turning her attention to Edward. While Carlisle whispered words to Alice, running his hands up and down her arms as if checking to see that she was all in one piece, Esme curled her arms around her son.

She looked as tiny as Alice, almost like a child as he placed his head on top of hers and whispered in her ear. I noticed her shoulders bobbing as she tried to stifle her sadness. I turned my face away as my own tears welled in my eyes. I would forever be in awe of the love between the members of this family. It was painful to witness this moment – this family moment – to both be a small part of it, while feeling entirely separate.

As soon as Olivia showed signs of being tired, I jumped at the opportunity to fully pull myself away, offering to put her to bed and read her a story. So many emotions were churning through me – sadness, frustration, longing, and guilt. I thought the space would help me.

But in the quiet of Olivia's room my mind became more active, not less. My imagination painted a picture of what was happening in the rest of the house, all the things that I wasn't able to participate in, or rather that I wouldn't allow myself to participate in. I was catapulted to another time when I felt small, unworthy, that I didn't deserve to be noticed. All the negativity that I'd learned to quash over the years came reeling back, enfolding me in its toxicity.

As I sat curled up on the wicker chair, fragments of my shattered past flitted through my mind. I could no longer conjure an image of my mother's face, but I found it nearly effortless to reawaken the feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy that dominated my troubled childhood. I had come so far from the broken girl I once was, but I would never be entirely free from my past.

My mind never strayed far from Alice; I could feel the steady thrum of her pain deep in my bones. She would have been a wonderful mother – nothing like mine. I was sure that she would still be one someday. She would have another chance.

I thought back to high school and the way in which Alice was always so certain of her future with Jasper. I'd always been envious of how sure she was of everything. I was still trying to figure life out, to develop a sense of myself and she was already there – living her dreams and asserting her uniqueness proudly each day.

I would be forever indebted to her for helping me to find my own path and for showing me that there were many different ways to look at the world and to live in it. I remembered my first impressions of the Cullens' house and how magical it all seemed, how tiny and shallow my life was in comparison. My thoughts turned to various memorable moments with the Cullens – before Edward became so pivotal in my life, before my accident.

But my mind was fickle and it was no time at all before it fixated again on Edward, remembering him as he was when I'd first known him – a younger, less tortured version of the man who I was just beginning to know. The Edward in my memory unknowingly seduced me with his idealism, his sensitivity and passion, ruining me for all other men, making me fall in love with him so completely that I couldn't imagine life without him.

The heightened emotions of the day had left me vulnerable. In this state, it was too easy for me to summon up long-suppressed feelings of the naïve girl that I once was. I could remember the intensity of my fascination, the depth of my adoration as if it were only yesterday. And inevitably, I allowed myself to peel back my layers of defense and feel the pain of loss anew. I almost reveled in it – the squeezing of my heart, the shortness of my shallow breaths – as I relived that time after he disappeared from my life, as I remembered how it felt to have all my hopes and dreams ripped away.

I was in a time of my life when I'd finally believed that I had come to terms with my past. I had accepted that perhaps I'd romanced my childhood fantasies, that I'd built up my adolescent crush to seem more than it was in reality. But now I knew that all my feelings were real, and all that had happened between us was just as profound for Edward as it was for me. And yet now that we'd found each other again, I had to face the cruel irony that he wasn't mine to have. The crushing weight of it all was staggering.

I couldn't bear it.

I felt compelled to move out of the darkness. I had to distract my mind before I drowned in the misery of my situation.

I slowly cracked the door open, wedging my body into the hallway. The harsh light unsettled me as I tiptoed my way to the bathroom.

I'd just about made it to the open doorway when Edward strode determinedly toward me from the other end of the hallway. I was still squinting, my eyes adjusting, as he shot me with a questioning gaze. He looked back over his shoulder as if listening to the sounds in the other room and then, without preamble, he grasped my wrist and tugged me into the bathroom with him.

In an instant, he had the door locked behind him and the light switched on. "You've been gone too long. It seems like I've been checking the hallway for you every few minutes this last hour. I've been dying to talk to you," he explained.

"I was with Olivia."

"I know," he said as he stepped intently closer. "I just thought you'd be out before now…and I wanted to talk to you alone."

Though I fought against my natural instinct to be touching, I shifted my body to put some distance between us. The back of my knees hit the toilet seat before I realized that I couldn't get far enough away to avoid him.

"This is agony," Edward said, leaning into me, his hand cupping my cheek.

"Edward please," I begged, trying to be strong.

"Bella," he gasped, not picking up on my meaning, as he pulled me to him, wrapping me in his arms.

It took all the strength I had to wrench myself free and to put my hands onto his chest, pushing him away. "Don't," I muttered passionlessly.

"What?" His brows furrowed as he took a hesitant step back towards the door. "What is it?" he asked, his voice breaking. I looked down to the floor, fixating my gaze on the black and white tiles.

"We can't do this," I tried to say with certainty, forcing the words out of my mouth.

I looked back up just in time to see Edward's face as he registered my rejection. I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and grabbing his limp hand as he slowly nodded, while his mind took stock of the situation.

He searched my eyes hopefully before his gaze dropped to our hands. "I don't think I can live without you anymore," he whispered. "I can't go back to this half-life I've been living," he spat, his words laced with a burgeoning anger.

"You've made your choice," I squeaked, hating my words as they spilled from me. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I would always love him. That I would take anything he would give me. That I would do anything to have him in my life. But somehow I didn't.

"But it's not a choice. Don't you see? I'm stuck. I'm stuck." He looked around the room as though searching for an escape, his hands tugging at his hair and making it stick out in all directions. His expression implored me to believe in his words. But I couldn't respond. I couldn't ease his mind or mine.

"Just give me some time. I'll figure it out," he promised weakly, as if he didn't even believe his words. But I nodded anyway to acknowledge that I heard his promise.

He raised his hands and gently put them on either side of my face. He looked at me with so much adoration that I almost gave in to my body's desire to throw myself at him. "God, I love you," he confessed passionately. He rubbed his thumbs across my cheeks and I realized that I was crying. In fact, my entire body began to tremble and I found my legs give out under me.

I crashed gracelessly onto the toilet seat. Edward immediately crouched down in front of me, pulling my forward by my shoulders. "Oh shit, are you okay?" he asked.

"I think so…ow," I responded as my bruised tailbone throbbed. I reached down to rub it and gave into the irresistible urge to giggle at the absurdity of my actions. Edward chuckled too for a moment, but stopped abruptly. Before I could register what he was doing, he placed his hand on the back of my head and crashed his lips to mine.

His kiss was desperate. His lips enclosed mine, sucking, pulling as if he wanted to devour me. I couldn't help but respond; my body reacted instinctually as I kissed him back. But our kisses meant different things. Edward's kiss was hopeful, while my lips were saying goodbye. Even as I pushed my tongue into his mouth, my passion for him did not hide my devastation. I couldn't bear the thought that this kiss might be our last.

My tears eventually disrupted the moment and I felt Edward pull his mouth away. My eyes blinked open as he wiped the salty moisture from my cheeks. I lifted my gaze to find that Edward was no longer enflamed with longing. Silent tears were slowly spilling from Edward's glassy eyes. My heart clenched and I stifled a whimper as I felt the intense need to flee. I jumped to my feet and shoved past him, reaching for the doorknob.

I had just turned the knob, one foot in the hallway, when he reacted, grabbing my arm to stop me. "Bella, please don't go yet," he pleaded.

I was about to respond when another voice interrupted, the words instantly dying in my throat. "What's going on?" Rosalie snapped, her hands on her hips.

"Nothing," I replied automatically, slipping my arm from Edward's loose fingers. "I was just…um…"

"Good, I'm glad it was nothing," Rosalie said meaningfully, cutting me off. "Because your mom has been looking for you, Edward," she chided, craning her neck to look into the bathroom. He turned out the light and stepped out into the hallway as she continued. "She was going to come look for you herself, but I convinced her to stay in the living room while I figured out where you'd disappeared to," she whispered hotly.

"I assume that you two are finished with whatever you were doing?" she added, looking pointedly at me.

"Yes, we're done," I replied quickly, instantly blanching at the double meaning in my statement. Rosalie linked her arm with mine and began to march resolutely to the end of the hallway. Edward simply nodded and shuffled along behind us.

Rosalie stopped when we reached the corner, turning back to Edward. "You should stay here for a minute or so."

"Okay," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. I kept my eyes on him as Rosalie tugged me away, our gaze holding until the very last second.

"Bella, there you are. Is Olivia finally asleep?" Esme asked as I walked into the living room. I wiped at my face, hoping that I didn't look like I'd been crying while I took in the odd family gathering.

Alice was near sleep and didn't seem aware of anything around her. She was stretched out on the couch, leaning limply against her mother. Esme looked almost as haggard as Alice as she absently caressed her daughter's hair, but her voice was as warm and welcoming as it always was.

"Yes, she fell asleep a while ago, but I stayed for a bit to make sure she was down for the night," I offered, stretching the truth. I noticed as I spoke that the television was on so I awkwardly stepping out of the way so that everyone could see. As I scanned the room though, it appeared as though it was primarily on as a distraction and not being paid much attention. I briefly noted that it was tuned to the Food Network. A heavyset man with a European accent rapidly chopped a carrot and threw it into sauté pan with onions and nearly an entire stick of butter.

Rosalie disappeared into the kitchen and I turned toward Jasper who was curled up in a side chair, his feet tucked under him, making him look like more a child than a man. He lifted his chin to acknowledge me as I walked in, but returned his face to a vacant expression as he turned it back to the television.

Carlisle was uncharacteristically sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back resting against the arm of the couch near Esme's legs. His eyes were closed, his face perfectly impassive. I couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. One of Esme's hands rested on his shoulder. Somehow the gesture both warmed me and chilled me all at once. It said, "This is my family. I will hold them together." I had never felt such a bond with anyone. And I was more uncertain than ever if I would ever have one.

Rosalie disappeared to the kitchen and I noticed for the first time that Heidi was still sitting alone in the corner of the room on a hard dining chair. She kept furtively glancing from the television and then back down to the phone in her hands as if it had the answers she was seeking. She had one bony leg crossed over the other and I couldn't help noticing how emaciated she looked. Her arms were almost skeletal. She had a scowl on her face and I imagined that she was very uncomfortable and very unhappy – maybe even more so than I.

I didn't have time to ponder the situation more before Edward entered the room and all eyes were suddenly on him. Heidi actually jumped up from her seat and walked toward him. Her relief was palpable. His eyes settled on me for just a second before he turned them to her. She placed her hand in his, pulling him back to her shaded corner of the room where I noticed for the first time that there was a second vacant dining chair placed directly next to the one she'd been sitting in.

I tore my eyes away, passing the scene as I headed for the kitchen. Rosalie had her back to me, a soapy dishrag in one hand as she hovered over the sink.

"Can I help?" I offered and she turned, smiling.

"There's actually not that much to do," she explained as a soapy trail slid down her arm. "Honestly, I'm just trying to keep myself busy. Now that Esme and Carlisle are here, Alice doesn't need me so much."

"You were here when she needed you though. You dropped everything and came. Alice is so lucky she has you."

"Well…she's my family. If she needs me, I'll be here," she replied bluntly. "I'd do it for you too, you know? You're family too."

"Thank you," I said earnestly. My heart swelled with her words even if I didn't feel worthy of her admission. I sat down on a small barstool and placed my head down on my arms.

"It's true, you know? You may never ask for help, but all of us…me, Alice, Jasper, Em, even Edward…we all are here for you. We love you. You are family too…you're an honorary Cullen."

Why was it that her word stung instead of soothing me? Why was it always this way? Was I too selfish to accept her love as it was given? I knew it seemed ungrateful, but I couldn't help the fact that I'd never wanted to be an "honorary" Cullen. I wanted to be a _true_ Cullen. I wanted to really belong, not to forever be separated by an invisible, but nevertheless, very real boundary.

"I love you all too," I said as I rose to hug her from behind. "And I promise to try to ask for help when I need it," I said over her shoulder, knowing that I was simply saying what she wanted to hear.

I didn't know if I could ever admit to her how deeply it hurt to let Edward go, how hard it was going to be to live without him now that I'd had a taste of how wonderful life could be. I don't think I could ever tell her how hard it was for me to do the right thing and how afraid I was that I might never recover from my decision to walk away.

"I'm going to make a phone call," I said to her as I scurried out of the room. I slipped down the hallway unseen to the guest room where I'd left my purse. I sifted quietly through the contents of my bag so I wouldn't wake Olivia until I finally found my phone.

Somehow I managed to make it all the way outside to the back porch, grabbing a throw on the way, without being noticed. After all, I'd always been good at being invisible.

I stepped outside into the cool Seattle night, the heavy mist enfolding me, chilling me. I wrapped the throw tightly around my shoulders and dropped down into a cushioned patio armchair. I turned on my phone, surprised to find that I'd missed several calls – Tanya, Angela, Tanya, and Tanya again.

I felt badly that they must be at home worrying about me. I sent off a quick text to let them know that I was okay and that I'd be home soon to fill them in on everything that had happened. They were as close to me as the Cullens. They were my de facto family, and even when they drove me crazy, they were there when I needed them. But it was my dad that I really needed to talk to.

A quick glance at my phone told me that it was already eleven in the evening. I hoped that I wasn't going to wake him. He worked some nights, but I didn't have his schedule memorized like I did when I was living at home. The phone rang for several beats before a sleepy female voice answered, "Hello?"

"Sue? It's Bella. I'm sorry for calling so late. I need to talk to my dad. Is he awake?"

"Bella? Is everything alright, sweetheart?" she asked, suddenly alert, her voice panicked.

"Everything's okay. I didn't mean to worry you. It's just been a hard night and I just…wanted to hear his voice, you know?" I implored her to understand.

"Oh, of course Bella. I think he fell asleep watching TV again. Hold on." I could hear a muffled shout on the other end of the line, Sue calling down to Charlie. A few seconds later, I heard the click of someone picking up the line.

"Bella?" For some reason the gruff voice of my father brought fresh tears instantly to my eyes and I stifled a sob as I replied.

"Dad?" I gulped.

"Honey, why are you crying? What happened? Who do I have to arrest?" he asked, only half-jokingly.

"No one, Dad. I'm just feeling really down tonight and I needed to hear your voice."

"Well okay," he said, accepting my explanation. Charlie was always good at knowing when to talk and when to listen.

"I miss you," I squeaked, trying to calm my emotions, realizing I didn't quite know what I wanted to say.

"I miss you too," Charlie said, his voice calm and easy. And after a pause, "What's on your mind, kiddo?" he prodded gently.

"I'm just feeling a little low tonight, I guess. I needed to hear your voice."

"Is that it, Bella? What's really bothering you?"

"Alice was pregnant…she lost her baby," I explained, knowing that it was okay to tell him, that he would keep it to himself. "All the Cullens are here, rallying around her. I want to be here for her, but I guess I feel…out of place."

"Oh, that's sad news," Charlie responded genuinely. "No one deserves to go through that. But I'm glad her parents came. Does Emmett know? Should I give him a call – he's on duty tonight."

"No, he knows already. Rosalie drove down earlier."

"Oh okay."

I took a deep breath before continuing, thinking over the events of the night. For some reason the grief in the air made me feel weaker than I had in a very long time. My walls had crumbled down around me. Old wounds had reopened out of nowhere and I was stewing in self-pity.

"Dad…" I murmured, my voice breaking. "Mom sometimes used to tell me that she wished I'd never been born," I revealed. "When she was…wasted, she would tell me that…that she should have had an abortion," I stumbled over the words, pushing them out, not knowing where they came from or why, but knowing deep in my gut, that I had to say them.

"Bella, don't you let her words poison you!" Charlie said emphatically. "She didn't mean them. I know she didn't. She was a mess, and yes - a horrible mother - but you were not unwanted. I always _always_ wanted you!"

"Why did she take me? I mean, she didn't even want me. Why didn't she just leave me with you?" It was a question I'd asked myself so many times throughout the years, a question that I'd been afraid to have answered.

"I wish I could give you an answer, Bella. But I just don't know. I tried so hard to find you, but she just kept running. I thought that she hated me…that she thought I was bad for you. I had my own doubts for years. At first I just believed she was crazy, trying to get revenge on me or something, but then…I began to think that maybe there was something, or someone else that she was running towards." He sighed heavily in exasperation.

"I don't think we'll ever know why she did what she did. But I'm sure she loved you in her way. She was just…sick…damaged…and she took it all out on you. And you were just a child. I'll never forgive her for doing that to you," he whispered heatedly, overcome by emotion.

"I know," I sobbed into the phone. "I love you, Dad."

"Oh honey, I love you too."

Charlie listened to me cry for several minutes, trying his best to soothe me through the phone. I felt horrible for upsetting him so late at night, but I couldn't stop and I needed to let it all out. Finally I'd wiped my last few tears away and with a few deep breaths, I said goodbye to my father. He reluctantly let me go with the promise that I'd call in the next few days to update him on how I was doing.

I shifted to my feet, hitting the end button on my phone and slipping it into my pocket. As I walked back into the house I realized just how tired I really was. I hadn't slept at all the night before and I'd only been functioning because I was needed and it was simply necessary to keep going. But now I felt sleep calling me, my limbs and heart so heavy I could hardly bear it.

Even in my exhausted state, I noticed that the scene inside had changed dramatically. Esme and Carlisle were in the kitchen whispering. The television was off, Alice and Jasper were absent – probably off to bed. I could vaguely hear Rosalie's voice near the front of the house and I somewhat robotically moved toward it.

I got there just in time to peek through the front door before she closed it. Edward was just sliding into the driver's seat of his elegant rental. He hesitated for an instant before shutting his door, turning his face back toward the house. Our eyes met and connected. His gaze was intense and I felt the familiar burn tingle through my body.

All too soon it was over as Rosalie swung the front door shut. She immediately pulled me in for a hug, knowing I would need it.

"They're gone," I lamented.

"They're flying back to San Francisco tomorrow morning," Rosalie said into my ear, her arms still wrapped around me. She was never one to beat around the bush, preferring to always be direct.

"They're leaving already?" I asked incredulously, pulling back to look in her face.

"Heidi spent all evening on the phone with her travel agent rearranging their flight. Apparently, she can't stand to be here a minute longer or something like that."

"What?"

"Yeah, I may have eavesdropped a little on her phone conversation earlier," Rosalie admitted, only slightly contrite. "She's one selfish bitch," she stated with surprising force.

"I didn't get to say goodbye."

"Don't you think it might be better this way?" Rosalie asked, but it was more a statement than a question.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I'm just empty…completely empty and tired and sad."

"I wish things were different for you," Rosalie said, squeezing my hands. "You deserve so much more than this," she added.

"I guess so," I said lamely. I wasn't so sure. Now Edward was gone and I didn't have any idea when I was going to see him or even talk to him again. I almost wished I'd settled for less. That I'd agreed to meet with him secretly, and to accept whatever scraps he'd give me.

Because what I was left with was nothing. Nothing at all. And I wasn't at all certain that I could live with that.

**Thank you for reading! **


	36. Chapter 36

**Aren't you guys proud of me? It only took me a week to write this! Finally, I'm on track again. It's the first of autumn and I'm feeling optimistic. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is the beginning of a turning point in the story.**

**A huge thank you to the awesome ms. ambrosia! She's stuck with me since the beginning and I'm just so happy that I've gotten to share this whole fanfic adventure with her by my side. **

**Disclaimer: SM owns.**

"How did I ever get you to talk me into this? It's torture," I grunted at Tanya as I pushed my torso upward off my Pilates mat toward the ceiling of the sweaty gym.

"Oh please, I didn't talk you into anything. I dragged you here against your will," Tanya replied as we lowered our torsos back to the mat. "But it's for your own good. You need the workout. Endorphins make you happy…and really, you could use a little muscle." Tanya rolled over onto her back and I mimicked her movements as she effortlessly followed our instructor's directions, lifting her legs into the air and then slowly lowering them again.

We repeated the movement over and over until I felt a burning pain in my thighs. I glanced at Tanya who seemed almost relaxed, the slight dewy sheen on her face the only indication that she was exerting herself.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to get my body in that position," I complained as our muscled instructor stretched forward, showing off her seemingly limitless flexibility, grasping her right ankle while placing her pert nose flat to her knee. "I'll never be able to do that," I admitted as I struggled to do the pose, all my muscles protesting my efforts.

"Never say never, Bella," Tanya advised as she inhaled and maneuvered her body into the correct position. I glared at her, wondering if her statement was about working my core muscles or something more.

"Fine, I'll do my best. But afterward you owe me a smoothie," I muttered as I pushed my aching body to respond, closing my eyes as I reached for my toes.

"Bella," Tanya hissed quietly and I opened my eyes to see that the rest of the class had moved on.

No matter how hard I tried to keep up it seemed I was always a few beats behind, but I just couldn't find it in me to care. With a heavy sigh I clambered up into a standing position, my traumatized legs wobbling beneath me. I could already feel the soreness in my abdomen as we did some deep breathing exercises, making me worried but thankful that the class was nearly over.

As I showered in the locker room, I thought of how busy and crazy the last week of my life had been. It had been a whirlwind of activity that left me little time to think or even breathe. I'd been to art show with Angela one night, out to the movies with both my roommates the next evening, and we'd gone to dinner and drinks the following night.

I'd gone with little protest, allowing myself to be shepherded about from one event to another. After I'd confessed everything that had happened with Edward, Tanya and Angela appeared resolved to help me get over what had happened. They thought if they kept me busy, and kept my mind off of things, that I'd move on.

They forced me out of the house, distracted me, but it was only prolonging what was inevitable. I would have to face the reality of my life. I would have to come to terms with what had happened.

I was still drinking the last bit of my smoothie when we got home. I was slurping loudly, trying to suck the last little chunks of fruit through my straw when Tanya informed me that I was going to a party with her and that I had to start getting ready.

I was so tired that I was still trying to process what she'd said when she'd already marched off toward the house. I struggled to follow her, to respond, but it took an extreme amount of effort to peel my aching body out of Tanya's little Audi sports car. I stumbled down the sidewalk behind her, my legs already feeling like jelly.

"What?" I threw at her back. She didn't respond.

"Tanya, answer me!" I demanded, glaring at her back as she walked through the front door and down the hallway toward the kitchen.

She already had the refrigerator door open and a water bottle in her hand when I finally caught up to her. "It's no big deal. It's a friend's birthday. Angela's got a work thing, so you're coming with me."

"Look, I know you and Angela are trying to keep me busy, but I think I can handle my own social calendar from here on out," I maintained, putting my hands on my hips for emphasis. "You don't have to babysit me," I added with less surety.

"We're not babysitting you. We just _know_ you. It's just a matter of time before you close yourself up in your bedroom with your journals and hide away from the world." She took a deep drink from the bottle in her hand while I processed her words. I shouldn't have been surprised that she knew me so well, but for a brief moment I was rendered speechless by her perception.

It was true. I felt the burning need to crawl under the covers on my bed and hide. It had been three long days since Edward had left. I had robotically slipped back into my regular routine, getting up for work in the morning and only half-reluctantly participating in the myriad of activities that Tanya and Angela had crafted up to keep me busy in the afternoons and evenings.

I was functioning. I was ignoring the hole in my heart.

And yet, whenever I was alone, the ache in my chest bloomed until I could no longer breathe a deep breath. I secretly appreciated the distractions my friends provided, because whenever I slowed down, whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was a perfectly angular jawline, broad shoulders, beautiful long fingers and intense green eyes that smoldered when they looked back at me.

"Look Bella, just go to this party with me, okay?" Tanya urged, more gently.

"Yes, okay," I readily agreed, surprising her. A crowded, noisy party was sure to keep my mind from wandering, from dwelling. I thought that I might even have a drink or two to help me forget.

"Oh…good…cool," she responded, her lips curling into a smirk.

"You go take your long ass bath and I'll go pick out our outfits," she ordered, giving me a shove.

I should have known what kind of party Tanya was taking me to. I should have been prepared. But as soon as we arrived at the party, I quickly wondered what kind of mad circus I'd entered. A large transvestite dressed in a skin tight red dress and stilettos answered the door, immediately embracing me in her hulking arms and practically catapulting me into the vast and wildly decorated warehouse loft.

I teetered in the gold high heels I was wearing as Tanya reached out from behind me, clutching onto my arm excitedly.

"Isn't this awesome?" she exclaimed giddily, her eyes roaming the high walls covered in graffiti art and several massive canvases covered with bold swathes of color and splashes of glitter. A huge Lucite chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, with fat tinsel garlands swinging like vines around it.

"Ooh, look," Tanya squealed, pointing to a far wall that at first was simply a huge, white, blank expanse, then was instantly transformed by random shapes and colors and bits of film that were being projected onto it from a booth in the corner of the room. My eyes could barely focus on one thing for long before they were drawn somewhere else.

Tanya had explained on the way to the party that this space was a shared art studio/gallery that several artists used. They had parties in the space all the time and Tanya had jumped at the opportunity to go to one. As I continued to look around, it became obvious that this was an artistic crowd, willing to go to extra lengths to prove their creativity.

Just as loud dance music started to play from a wall of speakers on one edge of the room and several groups of people slid out to the dance floor, Tanya pointed out a group of small framed paintings, mounted on the wall near a long table that was laid out with both homemade and catered-looking dishes.

"Those are Addie's work…this is her party," she explained as we pushed through the crowd, closer to the table and the artworks. As we approached the food, I noticed that table was actually a long wooden door, ingeniously crafted into a table, the food a strange, but delicious-looking mixture of Indian, Greek, and Middle Eastern finger foods, with heaping plates of cookies and little pies at one end.

I tore my eyes from the cookies to study the paintings on the wall behind, gasping in delight at what I found. The artworks were incredibly small, but amazingly detailed portraits, painted on small pieces of shell, flat stones, and bits of tree bark. Perfectly rendered faces peered back at me, their eyes almost appearing to focus on my face.

Tanya was distracted by a group of friends from school and skipped off to visit with them while I picked up a paper plate and, skipping the finger foods, began to fill it with desserts. I had just placed a fat chocolate chip cookie to my lips, turning back to watch the growing crowd of people on the dance floor when a vaguely familiar man began to approach me.

I placed the cookie back on my plate, licking a bit of chocolate from my lip, and tried to place the man's face in my memory before he reached me. Even in the artificial light, I immediately noticed the rich tone of his olive skin, the warmth and intelligence that radiated from his round, dark eyes. He was tall and thin, almost gaunt, with short inky black hair that lay wild on his head in languid curls.

He smiled – a wide smile of genuine happiness to see me – that completely disarmed me. Who was this man? He had come to a direct stop in front of me and I still had yet to place him in my mind. I was beginning to panic a little, my palms sweating, when he began to speak and miraculously, I instantly knew who he was.

"Hi Bella, you don't recognize me, do you?" He smirked, his dark eyes flashing.

"I don't believe it. Laurent…is that you?" I squeaked, overwhelmed by a rush of memories and subsequent emotions.

"Yep. I thought by the way you were squinting at me that you didn't recognize me."

"I didn't at first. You look so different," I admitted, awed by the physical changes in him since we were younger.

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment. It has been a long time," he replied. I was stunned to see the changes in him. He was no longer the shadow of a boy, hiding behind his hoodie, angry, sullen, and destined to follow in his father's footsteps.

"What happened to you?" I blurted. "I mean, you look great…older, uh…" I stammered, blushing.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me. "Thanks, um, you look great too. But…well, you always did. So no surprise there," he said, smiling broadly. He was so transformed that I was having difficulty reconciling him with who he used to be. He was so charming and handsome now that I just couldn't imagine how he'd become this confident, self-assured man.

"Do you live in Seattle?" I asked just as the music exploded out of the speakers behind me, drowning out my voice. Laurent leaned in closer toward my ear so I could hear his response.

"Um, no, not exactly," he whisper-yelled. "Hey, let's go find somewhere quieter so we can catch up," he suggested, wrapping his fingers around my arm. My instinctual reaction was to flinch from his touch, but I forced myself to relax. His demeanor wasn't threatening, but entirely pleasant. I looked into his eyes and saw only kindness and a bit of curiosity that reflected my own.

"Okay," I nodded and followed him across the dance floor, clinging to his arm as he easily maneuvered us through the small groups of enthusiastic dancers.

We ended up exiting through a door at the back of the warehouse space into a parking lot that had been somewhat unsuccessfully fashioned into a patio area. There were several plastic chairs haphazardly placed about with upside down milk crates tucked between them as makeshift end tables. Clunky ceramic ashtrays, empty beer cans and old magazines were scattered on the crates, giving the space the illusion of hominess.

To disguise the urban landscape, three large oak barrels, planted with Japanese maple trees framed the space. They were ingeniously situated to block the unforgiving view of the industrial neighborhood.

As I sat down into one of the chairs, I noticed that there was a faux rug painted on the ground underneath us, unfortunately providing very little warmth or comfort. I shivered as I pulled my thin coat around me, wishing that I didn't let Tanya convince me to wear the tiny silver wrap dress that I was wearing.

"I'll be right back," Laurent said as he turned and ran back into the noisy warehouse. He was gone only a second before returning with a black leather jacket which he offered to me.

"Thanks," I said, slipping the large jacket around my shoulders, instantly reveling in the warmth it provided.

Laurent sat down in the chair across from me, crossing his legs and slinking down into his chair just as he used to do when we were in group therapy together. I giggled at the memory, marveling that no matter how much time had passed, some things never changed.

"So how did you come to be at this party tonight? Do you know Addie?" Laurent asked.

"Not really. I'm here with my roommate, Tanya. She's friends with her."

"And how did you come to be here?" I countered.

"Well, that's a long story," he replied, stretching his arms back behind his head.

"I'm all ears." I wrapped the leather jacket tightly around me and smiled encouragingly.

"It's all Dr. Cullen's doing," Laurent said offhandedly, but I felt my stomach jolt and my heart stutter at the mention of Edward. I sat up taller in my seat.

"What do you mean?" I asked urgently.

"Before I tell you…I have to say something else. I have to apologize. I know it's been a long time, but I needed to say sorry for whatever happened in the past…at the party. I was messed up back then. You know it better than anyone," he said. He grimaced at the memory. "I just hope that nothing too shitty happened to you."

"Um, no, nothing too shitty," I replied. If Edward hadn't been there to save me, it could have been so much worse.

"Good, cause I've spent a lot of time trying to fix all the things I screwed up when I was a kid. It's truly a miracle that I'm not dealing drugs back in Forks and slumming it on the streets with my deadbeat dad. Sometimes I can hardly believe that I'm the same person, you know?

"It's almost like watching a movie about someone else when I look back to that time. But now here I am, just graduated from college and I'm starting law school at UC Berkeley next month."

"That's incredible! What happened, Laurent? How did things change for you?" I asked, my own curiosity peaking.

"It was Dr. Cullen. I found out that he moved down to San Francisco and I tracked him down. I was in a pretty bad place in my life. I knew what kind of future I was headed for if I stuck around. I had to get out of the house, you know what I mean? My parents weren't going to change…so I took off."

"You found Dr. Cullen?" I prodded, his name sounding weird on my lips.

"Yeah. And he helped me out. He let me stay with him for a little bit - down on this big-ass boat he was living on. We talked a lot about life and how I saw my future. Eventually, I figured out that I needed to go to school…finish high school…go on to college. So, long story short, Dr. Cullen helped me get a part-time job down at the harbor office while I went to night school and got my GED.

"I met a guy who let me live on his boat in exchange for cleaning it and keeping it maintained. I got to see Dr. Cullen all the time – I'm sure I bugged the shit out of him after a while, but he was always great. With his help, I applied to community college and then I went on to San Francisco State. Luckily, my parents have shit money, so I got lots of scholarships. I have loans too, but who doesn't?"

He sighed heavily, stretching out even more, until his feet were nearly on top of mine. "Enough about me," he announced.

"But – if you live in California, what are you doing in Seattle?" I asked in fascination, inspired by the events of his life. I wanted to hear more about Edward and how he'd somehow gotten involved with Laurent.

And yet, his story made me acutely aware of how much time had passed, how many things – both small and large – that Edward and I had missed in each other's lives. I realized that my view of him was incredibly narrow. There were so many details I wished to know, so many questions I wanted answered.

"I'm here for Addie. She's my…girlfriend. Or at least she was. Up until about six months ago, we were living in Oakland together, but she had an opportunity to share a studio space up here for cheap and an offer to be part of an art show. We were struggling financially," he grimaced, shrugging.

"And well, I didn't want to stop her…get in her way. I pretty much pushed her away," he confessed, his shoulders slumping. In one quick movement, he pulled his legs back and dropped his head to his hands. I placed my hand on his knee in a gesture of comfort. "I'm basically here to beg her to come home…if she'll have me."

"She'd be stupid not to," I said truthfully. Laurent was so changed. It wasn't difficult to see how good of a man he'd become. He was handsome, charming and self-assured and far more intelligent than I ever believed him to be previously.

I felt guilty for thinking so little of him in the past, for thinking that I knew everything about him. The fact that Edward saw something in Laurent that I hadn't noticed made me proud of him, and made me fall in love with him a little deeper.

"Thanks Bella," he whispered, suddenly embarrassed by my declaration. "You know, you haven't changed at all," he added, as though seeing something in me that he hadn't initially.

"Yes I have," I replied, chagrined, sitting up on the edge of the plastic chair.

"No, you're still beautiful, still smart, still so sweet. You know, we were all in love with you. Well, not Victoria," he corrected. "But me and James…you were like the ideal girl to us back then," he said quietly, as if not sure he wanted to reveal so much.

"What?" I asked, surprised, incredulous.

"It's true. And you like, never really seemed to get that you were so pretty, you know? I mean, it was obvious that sometimes even Dr. Cullen couldn't keep his eyes off you." I inhaled a sharp, little breath, allowing myself to absorb his words, allowing my perception of the past to stretch and bend and morph into something new.

Laurent's words ignited both a spark of delight within me as well as a stab of pain. Somehow hearing him speak of Edward brought everything that had happened in the past to the present again. And made it all so much more real, not the vague fantasy safely tucked into the recesses of my psyche. We had cared for each other – perhaps more than we should have – and that love was lost. Maybe forever.

"Did you know that James joined the Army?" Laurent asked, ripping me from my sad reverie.

"No," I answered. "But somehow that makes sense," I added, imagining him in military garb with his long, greasy ponytail finally shaved off. I could see him marching in the mud and rain like some image from a movie, focused and determined to follow his orders.

"I don't really know what happened to Victoria. She wasn't around much after you stopped coming to sessions."

"Oh, I know," I said. "She got married to a good friend of mine – Jacob Black. He's the quarterback for the…"

"San Diego Chargers," he interrupted with astonishment.

"Yes. They've been married for about three years now. They have three kids – all boys – two are twins. And she's about to have baby number four any day."

"Wow. That's unexpected," Laurent replied.

"Yes," I agreed. "But it's good. They're happy. They have a huge house, fancy cars, the works…"

"Cool," he replied, mulling over the information.

I was feeling relieved that I'd somehow successfully avoided the topic of my life, when Laurent broached the subject. "I don't really need to ask how you're doing," he announced.

"Why not?" I asked, confused by his statement. Was my unfulfilled life so plain on my face?

"I still talk to Dr. Cullen all the time and he's kept me updated. I've read some of your stories…I think he has copies of all of them. He's…really proud of you. I think he…_cares_ about you," he said as if searching for the right words to explain his thought. "He talks about you all the time. Nothing too personal," he reassured me, misinterpreting the look on my face.

"I think he's lonely," he said quietly. "He needed someone to talk to just as much as I did."

It was painful to imagine Edward so lonely and yet, I'd been in the exact same place. I'd been floating numbly through life, not really participating, not truly experiencing the world around me. Life had passed by me - things had happened, I'd adapted and grown - but it all felt as if it was occurring to someone else, as if I'd been watching a movie about a girl much like me.

"Bella? My phone? It's in my pocket," Laurent was saying, reaching out toward me and I realized that something was vibrating from inside the leather jacket I had burrowed into. I finally snapped to attention, digging in the pocket to retrieve the phone.

Laurent pulled the phone out of my hand, pushed a few buttons and looked eagerly at the screen. "Huh," he exclaimed, smiling. "Speak of the devil," he said, thrusting the screen back in my direction so that I could see. "His ears must have been burning."

"Who?" I said, glancing at the small screen where a text by someone named,_ DriftAway,_ flashed brightly.

"It's Dr. C. He's _DriftAway_.

"Dr. Cullen?" I asked, astonished. The night was so full of surprises.

"Yep. Look what he wrote: 'How's the party? Did U talk to Addie yet?' He's just checking up on me. He knew I was coming out here today to talk to her."

"Do you talk a lot?" I asked, my fingers reaching for his phone, wanting to somehow hold the text in my hand, as though it would bring me closer to him.

"We mostly email and text these days. But yeah, we keep up with each other."

"That's really great," I said genuinely, happy for both Laurent and Edward. I let my fingers slide off the phone so that Laurent could palm it in his hand. He looked down at the screen while he typed a response.

"I'm just catching him up on things," he explained. "He's going to be so surprised that you're here," he stated as he finished up his text.

"No! He doesn't need to know I'm here!" I reached for his phone, but he'd already sent his message.

"Too late, Bella. No big deal," Laurent muttered casually and I wondered for the first time if he knew more about my relationship with Edward than he was letting on.

His phone immediately chimed with a new message. Laurent scanned the text while I strained to see the tiny words on the phone. I had slid to the edge of my chair, not even remotely hiding my interest when Laurent raised his gaze and smiled at me. "He wants to talk to you," he said as the phone in his hand began to vibrate and he held it out to me.

I pushed the talk button on the phone and stood up, walking a few paces toward a colorfully painted dumpster in the back of the parking lot. "Hello?" I asked, my voice trembling in anticipation.

"Bella?"

"Edward?" I whispered, cupping my hand over the phone.

"I can't believe it's you…It's so good to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear yours too," I admitted, feeling heat in my cheeks.

"I didn't know if you'd want to talk to me again. I thought maybe I'd finally made you hate me forever," he said in a gravelly voice. I could hear shifting around in the background, a door shutting.

"I could never hate you, Edward," I said in a breathy voice, all the oxygen seeming to vanish from my lungs.

"I'm so sorry for everything. I've been so stupid…did everything wrong. I never meant to make you feel like you were my dirty little secret. You're not. You're everything, Bella." His words thrilled me, but my heart was bruised. I realized with no small amount of anguish that I didn't fully trust him or his words.

"I don't feel like I'm everything to you. I feel like nothing," I confessed, feeling the power and truth in my words.

"No…no, don't ever say or think that."

"Your actions speak louder than your words, Edward." Moments from the past few days filled my mind: Heidi's possessive hold on Edward's arm, his steely, intense gaze, strong arms wrapped around me, his lips crushing against mine, our heated words in the darkness. It was all so confusing and so painful that I had yet to put any of it in perspective. It all left me feeling bereft, empty, and lonelier than I could ever remember feeling.

"You left," I blurted into the receiver, an accusation, a challenge. How would he defend himself?

"I had to," he explained. "Alice asked me to go. She said that Heidi's negativity wasn't making her feel any better. She basically kicked us out."

"You didn't have to go. She could have gone back to the hotel or something," I suggested.

"I pleaded with her to head back alone. I even suggested that she get an earlier flight home and that I'd meet her later. I thought I'd convinced her, but later she told me that she'd gotten new tickets for both of us. I started to argue, but mom stepped in and told me that we were making Alice upset and that we should both just go…I didn't know what to do. I wanted to do the right thing," he implored, his words earnest.

"It just seemed so sudden," I said in explanation of my feelings. But my anger was deflating as I was beginning to see things from his perspective. I couldn't criticize him for following Alice's wishes, for wanting to do what was best for her.

"If it makes you feel any better, I suffered the whole way home. It was excruciating to leave you now that we just found each other again. I can't stop thinking about you. And I'm going to do something about it. I promise to make some changes. I'm finally awake, Bella. I feel…hope for the first time in a long time."

I sniffled, wiping a few tears away, hoping that my mascara wasn't running. I turned to catch Laurent's eye and saw in his expression of pity that he sensed the gravity of the conversation I was having with Edward.

"I don't know what to say, Edward. I want to believe that's true."

"It is true. What we have…it's real. I've known it since I first laid eyes on you, but I couldn't do anything about it then. But I can now. And I will. You'll see," he said with a certainty that I hadn't heard from him before.

All of a sudden loud music poured out into the night, surrounding me and reverberating against the concrete walls of the parking lot. My head jerked toward the back door that was now open, Tanya's curvy body framing the doorway.

"I've gotta go," I whispered bluntly into the phone.

"Bella? Can I call you again? Or write? I swear to you that things are going to change. I've got a plan," he promised.

"I guess so," I acquiesced, flustered by Tanya's discerning gaze.

"Thank you," he replied, the warmth in his rich voice, making me believe in his sincerity. "I'll be in touch really soon. I…can't wait to talk to you again."

"Me either," I said before saying goodbye and pushing the end button. As I handed the phone back to Laurent and turned my attention back to Tanya, I couldn't help but wonder just what I'd agreed to.

I said a brief goodbye to Laurent, with a promise to stay in touch that I genuinely meant to keep. In just the small amount of time I'd gotten reacquainted with him, I already felt a bond with him and I knew that if we made the effort, we could be good friends.

As I stepped back into the loud and raucous atmosphere of the party, I only marginally noticed the partying going on around me, relying on Tanya's firm grasp to drag me through the throngs of bodies. Tanya thrust a fruity-looking mixed drink into my hands and to avoid spilling it, I guzzled it down thirstily. My legs moved, but my mind was still back with Edward, his words swirling around my brain.

I'd done my best to keep my distance, to speak my mind, to set some form of boundaries between us, yet I questioned whether or not Rosalie would be proud of me. Had I given in to Edward? Was he manipulating me? Only time would tell if he really did have a plan or he really was making some changes.

A warm, delicious glow filled my chest as the alcohol began to take effect and Tanya pulled me against her warm body onto the dance floor. She began to gyrate sexily, her hands on my waist. I looked around the room and realized that I felt safe and almost anonymous in this thick crowd of crazy artists. I made the conscious decision to give into the moment and let go of all my fear and anxiety.

I raised my arms up into the sky and swung my hips from side to side, allowing the loud bass beat to drive my movements instinctually. The sweat began to bead on my brow, my dress damp and clinging to my breasts and my thighs, and I realized that I felt good…hopeful…alive.

I was going to start living. And I would wait, and trust, and believe that Edward would find a way back to me.

**Any thoughts?**


	37. Chapter 37

**There are just not enough hours in the day! And I'm finding it harder to squeeze productivity into each dwindling hour. I run around so fast trying to cram things in that I have bruises on my hips from crashing into the furniture (okay, maybe I am a bit of a Bella in this respect.) **

**So here I was actually finishing my chapter in a completely acceptable amount of time and – because I am crazy and distracted and rushed – I accidentally send the unedited chapter to a friend of mine (who doesn't even know I write fanfiction) instead of my beta. **

**Imagine my horror when I realized my mistake! I'm beyond embarrassed! I'm sure she was thoroughly confused too. I mean, how much sense could she make out of this chapter without the context? She's read the Twilight series though, so I'm sure she recognized the character names. *hides under rock***

**So, when I finally discovered my mistake I sent the chapter to my beta and, despite her busy life as a cake-making diva extraordinaire, she rushed this out to me as fast as she could. Thank you !**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I'm out of clever ways to say that I am not her and I claim no ownership over these characters.**

It is amazing how much things can change in just a few short months. It wasn't long ago that I didn't even consider how unhappy or dissatisfied I was with my life. I just plodded along, going through the motions, getting up every morning with little enthusiasm to go to a job that left me largely unfulfilled. I dated a man who I had no real feelings for, allowing my gay friends to plan and organize my social life for me.

There were moments of contentment – when I wrote a well-crafted line of prose, or when I held a giggling, effervescent Olivia in my arms.

But mostly I was drifting and I felt acutely alone.

Somehow, miraculously, only two months later, I felt entirely different. I'd become a new person, with a wholly reformed perspective on life. The world wasn't frightening; it wasn't boring or dull. It was rife with possibilities, with opportunities.

Even as I drove in the relentless rain along the windy highway that wrapped around Sequim Bay, I felt the optimism flow through my veins. As I got closer to Forks, I was almost tingling with anticipation.

I couldn't resist smiling as I glanced over at the passenger seat where I'd carefully draped my black bridesmaid dress. Black and grey were not very traditional wedding colors, but they were typically Alice. Even her dress was grey - a very simple, but elegant chiffon. And her bouquet was comprised solely of grey pearl roses, wrapped in black ribbon.

I was anxious to see all the wedding details come together, but not as anxious as I was to see one particular groomsman. It had been nearly two months since Edward had returned to San Francisco - the longest months of my life. It was two months of waiting, two months of promises, two months full of blossoming hope and expectations.

I couldn't help but smile when I thought back to all the calls, letters and packages I'd received since we'd parted. Edward's persistence was persuasive; I was convinced he wasn't giving up on us. His campaign was like a slow and seductive dance that didn't just keep us connected, but brought us infinitely closer.

I didn't know if it was his choice or mine, but at first, we didn't mention Heidi when we wrote or talked. Somehow though, I knew that Edward had been good on his word. He told me that he'd returned to San Francisco with a focused mind, hinting several times about the changes he was making.

He began to speak more and more about Forks, his family, and his regrets that he'd gotten so lost. I reminded him of how good a doctor he was, encouraging him to look into finishing medical school. Our conversations were riddled with hope, tentatively optimistic about our possibilities for the future.

Because I knew that if we were ever to have a future together, I had to have faith in the future as well as faith in him. So I trusted Edward and was confident that he'd developed some sort of plan to extricate Heidi from his life. It seemed like he'd jumped to action on his plan because only a few days after Addie's party, I received the first of many packages in the mail.

I remember how thrilled I was when Angela ran to my room with a smile on her face, holding the shoe-box sized package in her hands. I opened it to find a bouquet of dried wildflowers wrapped in yellow tissue paper. There was a small letter in the bottom of the box where Edward explained that he had picked the flowers for me in a meadow in the hills north of San Francisco and dried them so that I could keep them forever.

That night he called. It was one the first of many calls throughout the month.

It was on the phone that we really got to know one another again. After talking with Laurent, I'd realized just how little I knew about the man that I loved and I was desperate to know him better. And for him to know me too.

It was during these conversations that I learned that Edward no longer read poetry, that he loved working with his hands, and that he was teaching himself to play classical guitar. He hated avocados, had developed a love for clam chowder, and on balmy nights he sat on the deck of the boat he lived on and listened to blues music.

I told him about my writing – not what I wrote for the paper, but what I wrote for me. I talked a bit about how I'd met Angela and Tanya and how we'd grown into a family. He asked me about Garrett and other relationships I'd had and though I was reluctant to admit that I hadn't had an emotional connection to any man but him, I forced myself to tell him the truth.

"_Can I ask you something?" he prodded gently and I braced myself for his question._

"_Okay."_

"_How many men have you dated?"_

"_Oh," I inhaled, hesitating to answer. "Only a few."_

"_A few?" He sounded surprised. "You're a beautiful woman, Bella. You must have had a lot of men interested in you – in college, and at work? Before Garrett?"_

"_Well, yes, I suppose so…a few…in college…there were a lot of guys around all the time…I got asked out a bunch. But…Edward, I mostly said no. Don't you see? I was in love with you for so long," I admitted. "I just didn't want to go out with anyone else. They didn't compare."_

"_Oh," he replied and I couldn't help but wonder if he was pleased by my confession or upset by it._

"_I just wish…we hadn't lost so much time." It was after admissions like this that I craved to see Edward in person. I wished so badly that we weren't just talking on the phone, that we could touch, hold each other…kiss. And yet I knew we needed the distance. I needed the distance. He still had to follow through with his plan; I couldn't commit to him until he was free._

Our late night phone conversations also often revolved around Alice and Jasper and how they were coping with the aftermath of losing their baby. We were connected by our love and concern for them and our hope that they'd move past the tragedy and be happy once again.

When Alice told me that she and Jasper had decided to go through with the wedding, I could hardly wait to talk to Edward about it. When he called, I blurted the news excitedly, thinking he'd share my joy. But I was met by silence on the other end of the line.

"_Edward? Did you hear me? Alice and Jasper are getting married at the end of next month?" I repeated._

"_That's only three and a half weeks away." His voice was worried. I could sense the stress in his tone._

"_Aren't you happy for them?"_

"_Yes," he answered immediately. "Yes, of course I am. It's just…well, it doesn't give me much time."_

"_Time for what? What do you mean?"_

"_To straighten things out. I just want everything to be settled. This gives me a timetable. I just hope it's enough time…"_

"_I hope it is too," I agreed, my stomach all of a sudden fluttering with anticipation. Did this mean he planned to be free from Heidi by the time of the wedding? I was afraid to hope._

"_I want…_you_ to be my date, Bella. I don't want…Heidi to be there. At all. I want it all to be fixed by then."_

We avoided talking about Heidi on the phone for several weeks. Edward sent me letters every other day or so that said no word of her either. Instead they he told little bits of his day, moments when he'd thought of me, promises for our future together.

_Dear Bella,_

_I went to the farmer's market today and found myself at the cheese vendor's booth. Knowing how much you like it, I bought a large hunk of blue cheese to eat with my baguette. I sat down at the edge of the pier and watched the seagulls fight for crumbs while I ate and listened to the waves lapping at the shore. It was delicious, but it would have tasted much better if I were sharing it with you. _

_Why is it that everything I do reminds me of you?_

_You have enchanted me. _

_Someday soon, will you sit by my side and watch the seagulls and share my bread with me?_

_Forever Yours,_

_Edward_

I cherished his letters, tied them into little bundles with ribbon and placed them in a box under my bed. I would have written him back, but he asked me not to. Instead he encouraged me to write my thoughts and feelings in my journal and to share them with him when he next saw me.

So instead of letters, I wrote to him each day in the beautiful leather journal he bought for me. I wrote about the man who cut me off in the line at the coffee shop and the parking ticket I got on my car. I wrote about the bizarre horror movie I watched with Tanya about a possessed tire that kills people in a desert town. I wrote about my sore abdominal muscles and the progressively cold weather and the dull ache in my heart that wouldn't go away.

At first, I tried to make most of my journal entries positive or, if writing about the annoyances of life, at least witty. But after a particularly bad day at work, I found myself hunched over my journal, venting about the frustrations of the day.

For several weeks, since we'd had our last altercation at work, I'd been fairly successful at avoiding Garrett. Since I largely worked my own hours, sometimes in the office, and other times at home, I'd been able to ensure that we were not at the office at the same time. But I knew I could only avoid him for so long.

I'd come into work that day knowing I had a meeting to attend and that he would most likely be there. I had stopped at my favorite coffee shop on the way to the office to get a large mocha, thinking it would help to make me alert and raise my spirits. Instead, it just made me jumpy and on edge.

I went into the meeting with my heart racing and my hands trembling. Garrett thankfully kept his eyes averted, looking down at the notepad on the table in front of him, while he twirled his pen with his fingers. I kept my eyes focused on our editor, a short balding man, who was standing at the front of the room, trying to get everyone's attention.

Idle chatter instantly died down as he cleared his throat and began to talk about our current issue in his razor-sharp, blunt way of speaking. He was straightforward, unapologetic in his criticisms, killing ideas and defeating topics in one breath, while developing and expanding others in the next. I was so low in the hierarchy of writers, my articles so irrelevant, that they were never mentioned in these weekly meetings and I often wondered why I was forced to sit through them.

Despite feeling a bit of sympathetic embarrassment for the current journalist that was the target of our editor's biting disapproval, I usually found my mind wandering at these meetings. I'd capture an idea that was thrown around, expound upon it, develop it, composing clever dialog in my head. I'd craft stories, articles, and news stories that no one would ever read, the trains of thought fading before the agenda was even concluded and everyone returned their desks.

One of the main topics that kept coming up was the recent national census data that revealed more same-sex couples than ever before were claiming to be in long-term monogamous relationships, most of them considering themselves to be married. To me, this data seemed to reflect what I already knew to be true – that there were many committed gay couples in this country who simply wanted to create their own family units and live quiet, "normal" lives.

Voices continued to bounce around the room while I thought of how to personalize a potential story, how to garner responses to the data from both the gay community and perhaps an opposing conservative Christian viewpoint. I would focus a story around how the data possibly suggested that we were on the cusp of a general shift in American's perception of homosexuality and the family unit.

Our editor's deep tone as he posed leading questions to one of the news journalists cut through my internal musings. I had already answered his questions in my mind. While they'd been chattering about gay marriage laws in different states, I'd already thought of questions to pose, publications to quote, where to gather supporting data. I felt my ideas and opinions float into my mouth, waiting for me to say them, for me to boldly present them to the room.

I took a deep breath and waited for an opening. When there was a lull in the flow of ideas, I shifted forward in my seat and grasped my chance. Even though I felt the heat surge to my cheeks, I boldly raised my hand, saying, "Excuse me."

"Yes?" the editor asked with an irritated glare and I momentarily panicked, wondering if he'd forgotten my name.

I paused, my eyes searching the room only to land on Garrett who stared at me unabashedly, his mouth hanging open in surprise. His eyes seemed bigger than normal, almost crazed as his pen fell from his fingers and skidded across his notebook.

"Bella? Did you have something to add?" our stocky editor asked, not even bothering to acknowledge that it was the first time I'd dared to contribute to one of these meetings.

"Yeah. Um…I was thinking that a good focus for the article would be on how the census data…um, shows that attitudes toward the gay community are changing. And that we could…um, interview um…"

"Yes, yes, that's pretty much what we were saying, wasn't it, Felicia?" he spat across the room, effectively cutting me off and switching topics to the next story idea.

I was walking dejectedly back to my cubicle when I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I stopped and turned around to find that Garrett had followed me. I caught him in the process of raising his hand to grab my shoulder, but I stepped back to dodge his touch.

I felt nothing as I looked at him. The meeting left me deflated, with no energy to avoid whatever Garrett had in store.

"You shouldn't have done that," he chided. "Do you really think they care about your ideas?" he asked heatedly.

I opened my mouth but couldn't really think of anything to say. He'd voiced my own insecurities. Truly, I'd been thinking the same thing before he'd approached.

"They all write what they want to anyway. No one really cares what we think," he whispered hotly, grabbing on my forearm.

I snatched my arm from his fingers, feeling the ire rise within me.

"You may be right, but I won't ever get a real piece to write unless I prove myself somehow," I seethed.

"I think you should be happy with where you are, Bella. You're great at writing your column, honey," he said, his tone softening, becoming more patronizing and less hostile.

"You shouldn't reach for something that's beyond you." I took a step backwards, feeling like I was looking at a stranger. Did I ever really know Garrett?

A vivid, but detached memory of Garrett's thin lips clumsily pressing, prodding, searching against mine pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. I repressed a shudder as I remembered how it felt when I allowed him to pull me against his chest, his angular arms locking me in place as his fingers dipped lower, possessively squeezing the flesh of my bottom.

The memory left me cold. Garrett's touch had never moved me, never excited me or had me anxiously hot with desire. When we kissed, and he awkwardly snaked his arms around my waist, I always retreated to somewhere deep inside myself. I had never allowed any man to break through my barriers…except for Edward.

I'd always felt like no one ever really knew me. And yet, I'd never allowed anyone to. Garrett may have used me, but I'd used him too. Having felt a small taste of true passion with Edward made everything else seem like a pale substitute. I'd wasted so much of my life. But no more.

I swallowed my pride and felt a rush of gratitude that I never allowed Garrett into my heart. His words only hurt because they forced me to face reality. Deep down, I knew that there was a bit of truth to what he'd said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I threw back at him. "Look Garrett, keep your opinions to yourself. You don't get to comment on my life anymore. Understand?" I only felt a brief pang of remorse at my harsh words before I stomped back down the hallway toward my cubicle, flopping down hard into my seat.

I glanced at the bouquet of pale pink peonies that had been delivered earlier that morning and instantly felt better. I opened the little envelope that had come with the delivery and reread the card.

_Dear Bella,_

_I want you to know that I never stop thinking of you. You are always on my mind. When I wake up in the morning, I stretch in my bed and wonder if you are awake yet. While I'm eating my bagel, I imagine what you are eating for breakfast. _

_When I walk down the streets of San Francisco, I see you everywhere. The woman in front of me has hair the same length as you, though it's not quite the same color. A young girl walking with her father has a tear in her jeans that reminds me of a pair you used to wear._

_When I got a cup of coffee at my favorite café I tried to remember if you liked coffee. I sat down to read the paper but couldn't concentrate on the words. I just kept seeing you in my mind, sitting across from me, sipping your drink, smiling your beguiling smile, and warming my heart._

_Maybe someday – someday soon – we can get a cup of coffee together and spend some time just sitting and drinking and talking. I can't wait to get to know you again._

_I hope these flowers make you think of me as I am always thinking of you…_

_Love,_

_Edward_

I leaned in to sniff the peonies, inhaling their sweet, though faint scent and pondered my situation. The flowers didn't just remind me of Edward; they felt like a beacon, tugging on me, urging me to him. As I looked at the wild, curled petals, tucked so snuggly around each other, I realized that I had the strength and the courage to do what I needed to do.

I'd felt so stifled, so unfulfilled in my job for a long time. I'd never quite applied myself because I'd never completely embraced the process. I knew I was a good writer, but writing about honey farms and eccentric artists was not really what I wanted to be doing. Somehow I'd lost my way. I never set out to be a journalist. It was no wonder that my career was floundering. I didn't even want it.

I grabbed my bag, my laptop, my notebook, and my vase of flowers and marched out of the building. I wished it was for the last time, but I couldn't quit my job until I had some sort of plan worked out.

I didn't often take a bath in the middle of the day, but I needed the comfort of the warm water. My body felt relaxed, but my mind was whirring with errant thoughts. I wanted to figure out what my next step would be, but I couldn't focus; all my ideas were incoherent, jumbled. Edward was the only clear thing on my mind. He invaded every dream, every notion, every fantasy I had.

I saw us together as he often painted us in his letters – sitting side by side on a bench near the wharf on a breezy San Francisco afternoon, drinking coffee in his favorite café, holding hands as we walked down a busy downtown street – and could almost feel it in my grasp. I could see us taking a bath together, my back resting against Edward's broad chest, his hands on my thighs.

I placed a hand on my breast as I imagined his hands roaming across my stomach and up to my nipples, the soapy water making them slick and sensitive. My eyes fell to the silky tendrils of my dark hair as they spilled down across my breasts. A tremor of tingling energy shot to my core as I shifted my hips, widening my legs.

I slowly moved my hand down my body as I closed my eyes, dropping my head against the edge of the tub. My fingers meandered along the ridge of my stomach, crawling slowly downward when I heard a startling creaking sound, followed by the squeaky grinding twist of the bathroom door knob. I shifted my weight with my eyes trained on the door, sending a wave of tepid bath water sloshing over the side.

"Hey baby," Tanya cooed as she stepped into the steamy room.

"Tanya! Get out!" I yelled, covering my breasts with my hands.

"Oh, come on, Bella. I've seen your glorious breasts before." She waved her hand in my direction, reluctantly turning her gaze away.

"Why are you in here? Can't you give me a few more minutes?" I whined imploringly.

"No," she said plainly, plopping down onto the toilet seat and turning back in my direction.

"Your phone has been ringing incessantly since you got home. I'm trying to work on my thesis today and it's really starting to mess with my mojo. Plus, you've been in here for like an hour. That's plenty of time to get your groove on," she smirked knowingly.

"I wasn't getting my groove on." I huffed, splashing my face with water so that she couldn't see my blush, momentarily forgetting to be modest.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't you need to work or something anyway? You usually take your baths at night."

"I just needed one. I had a bad day," I explained, scooting down so that only the top of my head was above the water. I ran my fingers through my hair, ignoring the muffled rumbling sound of Tanya's words.

"Huh?" I asked as I slid upward, swishing the water around me.

"I asked you if you want to talk about it," Tanya repeated. Her expression turned from playful to serious in one breath, her obvious concern for me reminding me why I put up with all her quirkiness. She may not respect my boundaries, but she was a good friend and she genuinely cared.

"Not right now. I need some time to think things over first."

"Okay," she said as she stood. "You know where to find me."

"Thanks. Give me a few minutes and I'll get out and deal with my phone," I said to Tanya as she walked down the hall, leaving the bathroom door wide open. I swallowed back my irritation, knowing that Tanya just wasn't wired to consider that I might want some privacy.

I heaved myself out of the tub, dried quickly and padded across the hall to my room. My phone beeped at me twice while I tugged my yoga pants onto my damp legs. I huffed in irritation when I was finally dressed, flopping down onto my bed and finally glancing at the little screen on my phone.

Six missed calls from Alice. My heart jolted in my chest. Why the urgency? I dialed her quickly, hoping with all my heart that something bad hadn't happened this time. While I listened to the phone ringing on the other end, I was reminded of all the things that had been left unsaid between us – all the things we needed to discuss. I wondered if it was she was going to finally ask me about Edward – about what she suspected – or what she knew. I almost hung up - not sure if I was ready or if I would ever be ready – when she answered.

"Bella, I really need to talk to you," she blurted in lieu of hello.

"Oh…okay. What's up?" I asked timidly.

"Well, I've been trying to talk to you about something, but stuff has just gotten in the way. I was going to bring it up at dinner the other night, but things…well, they were just weird. It didn't seem like a good time." She sighed heavily, pausing.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"I just don't want to wait to tell you about this anymore," she said, piquing my curiosity. It didn't sound like she was talking about Edward. The tension rolled off my shoulders and down my back. I scooted backwards on my bed, getting more comfortable.

"Go on," I prodded. "Whatever you need to say, I'm here for you," I added.

"Oh, it's nothing bad…nothing like that. It's actually really good – an opportunity," she explained and I recognized the hint of excitement in her voice.

"What kind of opportunity?" Her excitement was catching. I could feel it surge through me. I stood and began to pace.

"I don't want to say too much over the phone. And I don't know how you're going to take it. I mean, you might not even be interested." I continued to pace, my toes squishing into the shag area rug.

"If you don't want to tell me over the phone - when?" I asked.

"Whenever," she squealed enthusiastically. "I know you're busy with work, but can you come over…like now?" she asked impatiently and I could practically hear the smile in her voice.

After the day I was having, work was the very last thing on my mind. I welcomed the distraction. "Sure. I'll be there in fifteen."

**Thank you for reading! Please leave me some love. 3 **


	38. Chapter 38

**I don't have much to say this time…just thank you for continuing to read this story. I hope it's as enjoyable to read as it is to write. I seriously can't believe that after two years or so of being part of this fanfiction world that I am still thoroughly invested in and entertained by this process. It has been a wonderful diversion from everyday life and I simply can't seem to live without it now. **

**I have read every type of story – both real and fantastical and with all forms of character combinations and I can honestly say that I am still amazed and humbled daily by the caliber of writing that can be found here. And what is most special and mentionable is that we all choose to do this in the meager pockets of spare time that we can carve out of our busy lives.**

**In this time of holiday and family, I am thankful of so many things: for my beautiful family, for my health, for good and loyal friends, for , my generous beta, and for you – my fanfiction playmates. If it weren't for you, my life would be missing something…something that enriches me in ways I can't quite articulate. So thank you. **

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't. Don't plagiarize…it's seriously bad for your karma.**

**Read on…**

The rain should have dampened my spirits. And on any other day it probably would have. But as soon as I turned the bend and all the familiar landmarks of my adopted hometown came into view, I was filled with an unwavering feeling of optimism.

I had a few hours before I had to be at the Cullens to help set up for Alice and Jasper's wedding, and though I was anxious – desperate even – to get there, I wanted to see Charlie just as much. I parked my little Honda next to the rusted-out body of my old truck. It was more a decoration now than a working vehicle. And though beyond unreliable, Charlie sometimes dared to use it to haul odds and ends.

Since I wasn't staying long, I didn't bother gathering any of my stuff to take into the house. With a deep breath and a rush of determination, I flung open the car door, jumping out to the unforgiving rain. I threw a squinted glance toward the house while the sharp drops pelted me from all directions. The air fizzled with electricity, lightening flashing in the sky. The front door burst open in welcome and I braced myself for the inevitable thunder as I gingerly, but quickly, sprinted up the driveway, slipping on the mossy concrete with each step.

"Dad!" I yelled happily as I bounded through the door, drenching my father in my rain-soaked arms.

He didn't say anything. He just wrapped his arms tightly around me and held me to him, cherishing the reunion as much as I was. He snorted gruffly – his way of holding back his emotion – and released me, stepping back to look at me closely.

"You…you look good," he exclaimed.

"Thanks. So do you, Dad." And he really did. He seemed happy; it showed in his face and in his posture. The calmness was there as it always was, but there was also a youthful eagerness to his expression that I'd never seen on him before.

"I'm glad you're here," he said plainly – honestly.

"Me too. I'm really excited for Alice's wedding. And I have a lot to tell you," I prompted, making sure I had his attention. "Where's Sue?" I looked around the room as if she might appear from the shadows.

"I have some news too," Charlie said impishly, sparking my curiosity. "Sue!" he yelled toward the kitchen. The look he threw me – a mixture of fear and delight - was confusing.

I pushed my news to the side, instantly intrigued by my father's behavior. I turned toward the kitchen, waiting for Sue's appearance. She slowly made her way around the corner into view.

"Sue!" I gasped at the sight of her, my mouth falling open. She waddled into the room, her hands lovingly placed on her obviously pregnant belly. She shrugged, cracking a hesitant smile.

"You…what? Huh?" I stammered, my gaze volleying back and forth between my Dad and Sue. "Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, excitement and joy welling up within me.

"We wanted to tell you in person. We were going to tell you when we first found out, but it was right when Alice…" She broke eye contact, her hands instinctively rubbing her stomach. "And then we decided we should tell you in person and so we planned to drive on out to Seattle a month ago, but your Dad couldn't get off of work and then soon after you called and told us you were coming here, so we waited. You're not mad, are you?" Sue's forehead wrinkled with worry.

"No…well, I can't believe it, but no, I'm not mad. I'm just so…happy for you guys. I can't believe it. I'm going to have a little half-brother or sister?" I stepped forward and tugged Sue into a fierce hug, tears of happiness already streaming down my face. After a moment, I pulled back and reached down, placing my hands on her stomach. "This is perfect. So perfect."

"I have to admit, I was worried how you would react," Charlie confessed, distracting me from my focus on Sue and her rounded belly.

"Why?" I turned to face my father, noticing the fear in his expression.

"Well…I wasn't always there for you, and I…I just didn't want the idea of it…to hurt you," he said in a low, quiet voice.

"Dad," I sighed. "This baby is a blessing. You and Sue are going to be wonderful parents for this baby." I swallowed thickly, wiping my tears as they flowed. "You never got the chance to be the Dad you wanted to be with me. But now…" my voice cracked, but I continued through my tears. "This is your second chance to do it right."

"I'll be at every damn ballet recital or little league game the little runt has," he declared, hugging me to his side.

"I know you will," I said as Sue reached out and embraced us both.

"Ugh, you guys are both all wet," Sue teased grouchily as she pulled away. "Let's get you in to some dry clothes and have some coffee," she suggested.

It was over coffee and a huge plateful of greasy, delicious Indian frybread, that I told Charlie and Sue that I'd decided to quit my job. Charlie, predictably, was shocked. Sue, surprisingly, was not.

As I recalled my visit with Alice earlier in the month, Sue's smile widened knowingly, her fingers nervously fidgeting on her lap. I remembered back to Alice's urgent call and how I came to know the role that Sue played in giving me the push I needed to make a change in my life.

I'm not sure what I was expecting when I went to Alice's house that day, but I definitely didn't think I'd find Alice sprawled out on her living room floor surrounded by large paintings. A ray of sunlight was stretching through the wide window, illuminating the room and the artwork with a happy, welcoming glow.

It was such a contrast to the last time I'd been in her house – when it was filled with sadness and remorse – that I was astounded by the difference. And what was even more surprising was the sight of the thin man crouched awkwardly at her side. He bobbled on his ankles while he spoke, his hands gesturing animatedly.

The two figures turned in my direction as I approached, the thin man stretching to his feet. I recognized him instantly, bounding forward to greet him. "Seth! I didn't know you were going to be here. This is so incredible! How are you?" I asked, stepping back to scrutinize his appearance more closely.

"I'm great. Life is great…fantastic, wonderful, magnificent, idyllic even," he replied in one breath. It was nice to see that though his body matured and his limbs grew long, he was still the same boy I once knew. His smile was infectious and I found myself responding to his ebullience, the earlier heaviness from my day at work instantly forgotten.

"Seth is visiting from Connecticut," Alice said, hopping up to join us.

"Connecticut?" I asked. I hadn't known that he'd moved there. I felt a brief stab of guilt that I'd allowed our friendship to dwindle away. I wished that I'd tried harder. But after the motorcycle accident I'd missed so much school and then when Edward left, I'd only been a shell of a person – a ghost of my former self.

"Yes. Well I went to school there, at Yale. And my wife is from there," he answered. "Born, bred, raised, cultured…"

"You're married?" I interrupted his train of thought. I was both astonished and a filled with a genuine swell of happiness for him.

"I am…happily. Supremely, utterly, absolutely, without any doubt ecstatic. She is the most beautiful girl in the world," he ended succinctly and stepped to the side. He continued to speak but I couldn't focus on his stream of adjectives as I finally got a good view of the series of paintings spread out on the floor.

It was obvious that they were aligned in some kind of order, like a storyboard. They were exquisite and realistically detailed with flourishes of the brushstroke that were uniquely Alice. Some were historical-looking renderings of Native Americans hunting, fishing, and running through a dense, green forest. The rest of the paintings were mostly of a pack of wolves, their teeth gnashing, their golden eyes flashing dangerously.

I couldn't stop myself from moving closer to examine one particularly intriguing painting of a man, his body twisting and morphing into something else, an explosion of russet fur and sharp claws. The expression on his face seemed to somehow miraculous convey both a sense of agony and bliss simultaneously. Alice had captured a moment of true rapture, in the figure's body and his soul.

"They're incredible, right?" Seth asked, his smile beaming. "I just knew Alice could do it."

"What are they for?" I asked, peeling my eyes away.

"Why don't we sit down?" Alice suggested, ushering us toward the dining table.

There was an overstuffed folder in the middle of the table, sketches, and snippets of dog-eared paper spilling out. Seth opened it dramatically, pulling a stapled pile of papers out, and sliding them ceremoniously across the table to me.

I looked down at the words on the page, not at first recognizing what I was seeing. When it hit me, I raised my eyes in confusion. "This is my paper…my article on the Quileute…from high school," I said incredulously. There had to be some mistake. Why would Seth even have a copy of this?

"Uh huh. It was…is a really great article. Sue thought so too," he replied, nodding.

"What does this old paper I did on the Quileute have to do with anything?" I was starting to make the connection between Alice's artwork and the content of my paper, but I needed more information.

"Have you ever heard of the Pequot tribe?" Seth asked, his eyebrows arched encouragingly.

"Um…no," I admitted, biting my lip nervously.

"Well, my wife…Crystal, she's a Pequot…from Connecticut. Her people…her father, is very rich. I mean, he is rolling in the dough, he's crazy well-off, his cash is liquid," Seth rambled. "Their tribe is probably the wealthiest of all the tribes in the US. They own and run a casino, Foxwood, that is huge, massive, insane big."

"Okay," I said questioningly, wondering how his father-in-law's extreme wealth had anything to do with me or my high school paper.

"In the last few years, Crystal's dad and some of the other tribal elders decided to take some of the casino's profits and put it to good use for the tribe. They built a health care center and a pharmacy, and most significantly, a beautiful Native American Museum and Research Center.

"Right after Crystal and I got back, Harry - that's her dad… pulled me aside and told me how happy he was that I was a Quileute – that our two tribes shared many similarities. The Pequot is a really small tribe like the Quileute and both tribes have had to fight against their dwindling populations to ultimately survive. You know how the wolf is the animal totem for the Quileute? Well, the Pequot are called the 'Fox People.'"

I nodded, fragments of my paper and my research coming to mind. I remembered my visit to the Quileute community center years before and the feeling of belonging that consumed me when I sat in the drum circle, following the rhythm of the group. Billy's impassioned plea that night to his tribe to respect, honor, and most importantly to continue their traditions echoed in my mind, affecting me powerfully even after so much time.

"Harry saw our wedding as an opportunity," Seth continued to explain, pulling me out of my memories.

"He wants to help the Quileute do the same thing as the Pequot," Alice jumped in impatiently.

"He wants to build a casino for them?" I asked, not able to imagine a casino marring the raw, wild landscape of First Beach.

"No," Seth chuckled. "He actually is more interested in helping expand our cultural center and in ensuring that our artifacts, stories, and language are all preserved for future generations. He wants to start with a children's book. I immediately thought of Alice for the illustrations since she's familiar with our iconography. She collaborated with a few of the tribal artists for these works," he said, waving toward the paintings on the floor in the other room.

"I asked Sue to help me find a writer in our tribe to help write the book. She told me that there weren't any writers in the tribe that she knew of and then she disappeared into the other room for a while and came out with your paper. She said you would be perfect and made me promise that I wouldn't take _no_ for an answer." He smiled smugly.

"She can be pretty scary sometimes…fearsome…formidable. I wouldn't want to make her mad," he added.

"Wow, this is just...so amazing. I can't believe…me…you want…write book," I stuttered, my thoughts jumbling in my brain. "Really?" I squeaked.

"Isn't it great?" Alice asked, placing her hand atop mine. "And that's not all. Seth has been making movies…directing. It's what he ended up studying at Yale."

"I started off majoring in immunobiology, but I just kept feeling like it wasn't right. A friend of mine had a roommate who was a senior in the Film Studies program and he invited us to the viewing of the film he made for his thesis project. It was a horrible film…a horror movie that he'd filmed entirely in the bathroom of his apartment. But…I was intrigued. It seemed so much more fun than what I was studying. I liked the creative aspect of it, and it didn't involve any drawing," he teased, poking at Alice.

"Harry agreed to produce my first film – as long as it is focused on the Native American community. I want to do it on the Quileute land…maybe something involving the legends of the wolves…like magical realism." Seth shifted forward on his seat, his voice squeaking excitedly. He was clearly enthusiastic about the project.

"The only thing is…I don't have a story. And I really want to concentrate on the directing aspect of the movie. So, I want you to write it," he blurted eagerly, his eyes questioning.

"Me?"

"Well, after you help Alice finish the children's book…but, yeah…you."

In the last few weeks, when we weren't talking about her wedding or finalizing all the last minute details, we spent our time putting the preliminary draft of our book together. I had a mock-up of the book on the passenger seat of my car tucked under my bridesmaid dress to show Seth and hopefully, Edward at the wedding.

It wasn't close to being done, but I couldn't wait to share what we'd accomplished so far. I loved working with Alice; the process had been more than rewarding. I was finally proud of something I'd written and it just felt right – like it was something I was supposed to be doing.

So many things were changing and they all felt like they were for the better. I was truly excited about my career for probably the very first time. And Charlie's news…a new little Swan was going to come into the world.

As I navigated the wet roads, I couldn't help but mull over his fears – that I wouldn't be happy for him and Sue or that the news would make me feel jealous or spiteful about my own childhood. I seriously considered the idea that I might be harboring negative feelings, that the idea of a new sibling caused me to feel hurt in any way. But I truly couldn't feel anything but complete happiness for my Dad and for Sue. From the moment Charlie became my guardian he did everything he could to be a good father to me. I owed him everything.

The idea of a new baby in the family just felt right and wonderful. The thought of being a sister warmed me from head to toe. I was going to be a big sister and I wouldn't take that role lightly. I'd be the best sister any kid could hope for.

As I approached the almost hidden break in the trees near the entrance to the Cullen's house, the rain thankfully stopped. As there were several cars already parked on the driveway at the base of the long stairway, I pulled to the private road on the side of the house – very near where I'd had my motorcycle accident - and parked there.

The ground was muddy, but I barely noticed as I looked up at the house in anticipation. I slung my bag across my torso, holding my dress in its garment bag over my arm, the book in my other hand and began to climb my way to the door.

The stairs were decorated with simple, clear hurricane lamps, one at each side of every single step, fat, white pillar candles inside that had yet to be lit. When I reached the landing, I noticed that the door was slightly cracked open, as if someone heard me coming but didn't stay to greet me. Perhaps they were too busy to meet me at the door.

I pushed it open with my foot, entering the house where I'd spent so many memorable moments. Easing my bag off my shoulder, I placed the rough version of our children's book on the entry table next to a pile of key chains, a ceramic bowl with cards and mail, and the unopened guest book for the wedding.

With my bridesmaid dress in my arms, I made my way further into the house, listening for signs of activity. Every part of my body trembled with excitement. I was so happy for Alice and Jasper, but I was also intensely anxious and eager to see Edward again.

We hadn't spoken on the phone for almost a week. He'd explained that there were some things – I assumed that they'd had to do with Heidi – that he'd had to tie up. He begged me to be patient and to trust him. And I had.

On our last phone conversation he'd promised with a heated whisper that he'd see me at the wedding. And that he would explain…_everything_.

With every fiber of my being, I hoped that Heidi was not with him. I hoped that he accomplished all he'd set out to do. I was urgently waiting to hear his explanation. I was urgently waiting just to be in his presence again.

I felt hot all over. I could hear my heart beat ringing in my ears. I walked forward as if automatically programmed to keep moving. With each step I couldn't help but feel that I was walking toward my destiny.

I'd just reached the bottom of the stairway when Edward's door opened at the end of the hallway. He was there, one hand still wrapped around the door knob, his eyes fixed downward. I sucked in a deep breath, barely able to contain the emotions welling inside me and his eyes lifted at the sound. Our gazes locked. There was so much feeling in the look between us – heat, desire, anticipation, love – that I was momentarily immobilized.

Edward's eyes softened, his lips curling into a crooked smirk. He took a step through the doorway toward me just as Alice's door swung open into the hall, blocking him, and allowing a buzzing Olivia to come bounding out like a kangaroo into my pathway.

"Bella! Oh, you're here. You have to come see Alice. Do you like my dress? It looks like yours and Mama's too. Oh Bella, isn't this so much fun?" She rambled off questions as she tugged me into Alice's room. I turned to glance back at Edward as he brushed by me, his arm intentionally grazing mine and inciting a rash of tingles to run across the surface of my skin.

Olivia grasped my hand, but I dug in my heels, resisting her urgent pulling to watch Edward climb the first few steps of the stairway. Before he disappeared from view, he turned and caught me looking. He smiled widely, coyly dropping his head to the side and mouthed, "Soon". It was both a question and a promise. I couldn't hide my grin or my blush as I turned my attention to Olivia.

It was so hard to resist running after him, every part of me was drawn toward the stairs. But I knew I had to be patient. This day wasn't just about me finally getting to see and talk with Edward again. I forced myself to focus on Alice and to turn my energy into getting us all ready for the ceremony.

Olivia shut the door behind me, plopping down onto Alice's huge bed next to Rosalie who was folding clothes and tucking them carefully into an open suitcase. Alice turned away from her vanity, where she'd been putting a shimmery white powder on her shoulders, her eyes landing on me.

"Finally!" Alice sighed, coming to embrace me. She shivered in my arms, the slinky silk red robe she was wearing fluttering around her. Her short hair was pulled back from her face on either side with an army of black bobby pins, a silver band with tiny purplish-grey roses woven into it encircling her head like a crown.

"I'm here," I said as I released Alice. She slinked distractedly across the room, returning to her seat in front of the mirror. Pursing her lips, she shakily opened a silver tube of pale lavender lipstick and neatly applied it across her bottom lip. Even from distance I could see her hands trembling as she tried to calm her nerves. I took a deep breath and briefly turned my attention from her, bending over to kiss Rosalie on the cheek. "Now the fun can begin," I said as I reached for Olivia's foot and tickled the bottom lightly, eliciting a round of adorable giggles.

Esme retrieved me from the hideout in Alice's room shortly after I'd arrived, linking our arms and tugging me up the stairs to the backyard with her. I was so preoccupied in looking for signs of Edward that I failed to register how the yard had been transformed into a magical wonderland until I was actually standing in the midst of it all.

A fleet of three massive canopies shielded the entire outdoor space from the inconsistent weather in a giant T-shaped formation. The middle section had a long silver carpet running down the middle of it, with several rows of black folding chairs on either side. At the end of the aisle was a stage with a very simple arch, draped in swathes of gauzy white fabric, and tied off with fat strips of black velvet ribbon.

I glanced to my left to see that tables were being set up with lavender tablecloths and small centerpieces with the same silvery roses Alice chose for her bouquet. The canopy on my right was similarly being fashioned with tables and chairs, with a larger table toward the center of the outdoor room.

"Will you help with the ribbons, Bella? And then afterward tell the staff where to set up the gift table. I need to see to the caterer and the cake delivery." Esme drifted off into the house before I could respond. But I easily found the pile of grey velvet ribbon laid across one of the chairs and got to work tying loose bows at the edges of each aisle chair.

I tried to focus on my task; I had offered to help and I didn't want to disappoint Alice or Esme. I fought the urge to abandon the ribbon and do a quick search for Edward. He was all I could think of as I forced myself to tie bows, unfold chairs, and straighten tablecloths.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when I felt the heat of eyes on me and I turned quickly to see Edward leaning against the jamb to the wide french doors at the entrance to the backyard. I caught his intense stare that never failed to elicit a strong physical response in me. A flame of desire threaded its way through my body and without thought, I squeezed the remaining ribbon in my hands into a strangled mess.

I marveled at how relaxed he seemed, his leg propped up as if he were modeling the outfit he wore. He looked fresh from the shower, his tousled hair heavy with dampness, his feet bare. He wore a white undershirt and black jeans that hung low on his hips. How was it that he was so calm when my insides were chaotic with emotion?

"Edward! Your father is looking for you," Esme admonished as she walked through the door. "The men are in his study. Oh, and could you see to your grandparents? For some reason, they seem to like you," she admitted, her face slightly pinched. "They're in the living room," she added as he mumbled a response and drifted back into the house.

"Thank you so much, Bella." Esme approached me, taking the sweaty wad of crumbled ribbon from my hands. "I'm so glad you're here. Do you know, just having you back here makes me so happy? I feel like all my family is finally here in one place after being so scattered." She threw a glance over her shoulder to where Edward had been standing.

She reached down with her free hand and grasped my fingers, patting my hand with her handful of ribbon as if to comfort me. Her face grew serious.

"I know there are some things…that happened in the past…and more recently… that I don't know the details about. But I just have a feeling that everything is going to be alright for you." She smiled warmly – a smile that was distinctly motherly. "For you…and _Edward_."

My mouth dropped open in surprise and I couldn't help wondering what she knew or what she thought she knew. I wasn't ready to find out though. "I need to help Alice now," I cried as I pulled away from her hold, stumbling as I headed for the inside of the house.

It only took me a few minutes to put on my dress and drag a brush through my hair. I sat down next to Alice, touched up my mascara and then put on some lip gloss. Then I spent the next two hours rubbing Alice's bony shoulders, holding her hand while we paced the room.

I made several trips to the kitchen, hoping to once again catch a glance of Edward while stealing little quiches and bits of puff pastry from the catering trays. I felt awkward running down the halls in my grey sheaf and bare feet, the skirt of my dress rustling around my legs. When I returned to the room, Olivia took her first choice of snack, eyeing the little treats suspiciously before popping them into her mouth.

I practically had to force-feed Alice who was beginning to show more signs of nervousness as time moved closer to the actual ceremony. We were nearly ready; we'd all slipped into our shoes and taken a few final glances in the mirror. Rose and I helped Alice put on her dress without messing up her hair or make-up, our hands lovingly adjusting the fabric around her slim body.

While we waited, Rose and Olivia kept us partially distracted from the magnitude of the day. Rose recalled funny stories about her wedding to Emmett while Olivia spun around in circles until she was so dizzy she collapsed onto the bed in a fit of infectious giggles.

I wished I could be of more help, but I found myself getting anxious right along with Alice. Every time we heard footsteps from above, furniture being moved, snippets of music being played in the distance, my stomach fluttered uncomfortably. Alice and I kept locking gazes and I tried my best to smile reassuringly, though I imagine that I mostly failed.

Voices drifted down the stairwell to us, getting louder and more distinct. I jumped to action, maneuvering around Olivia to peek out the door. I opened the door to see Esme flowing elegantly down the stairs in a sophisticated black dress and high heels, a simple choker of black pearls around her neck. She was so poised and regal in her bearing as she approached the room, but I saw the sparkle in her eye as she caught my gaze and I was overcome with a wave of happiness.

At that moment, I realized that this day was just as important to her as it was to Alice and Jasper. The day marked a transformation in her life just as much as it did for Alice. And to see her filled with joy somehow centered me, brushing over the frazzled edges of my nerves. Alice too was calmed by her mother's presence. Sensing she needed to be grounded, Esme tucked her arms around her petite daughter, whispering words of comfort and perhaps wisdom in her ear. When she pulled away, Alice's eyes were glassy, but she was beaming. I'd never seen her smile so wide.

As Esme busily flitted around Alice, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, and wiping invisible fluffs of lint off her skirt, Rose and Olivia joined them in the corner. All four girls embraced, laughing while holding each other close. I felt a tug in my heart. I wanted to join them, but I hesitated.

I wasn't sure that I would ever feel like I fully belonged, like I was worthy of participating in their special moment. But I quickly surfaced from my doubts, surprised to find that my legs were already taking me across the room. No one flinched when I added my arms to the affectionate huddle. No one questioned that I should be part of this celebration. Why should I?

I reveled in the feeling of belonging and even allowed myself to imagine being part of another family circle – one that was centered on a new Swan baby…a little brother or sister. And then an image flashed in my brain that was even more glorious …an image of a life I wanted so badly that I feared to fully visualize it. But I couldn't help but feel a thrill when I imagined _me _in the center of a group hug –in a wedding dress of my own, and ready to embrace a bright future…as a true Cullen.

As if called by my thoughts of him, there was a brief knock at the door before it opened to reveal the real man before me…_Edward_. He took my breath away. He had changed into his wedding attire and I thought, as my eyes washed over him, that he'd never looked so handsome as he did in the black suit that was cut to fit him perfectly.

I always seemed to forget how tall he was until he stood before me, his body towering over me. I was overcome with the sensation of being so close to him, his clean, manly scent so strong, so enticing. I reached out before I could stop myself and grabbed his lapel, tugging gently.

"Hi," he said faintly, as if out of breath. His eyes trailed from my face down my body and I felt my face blush hotly in response.

"Hi," I returned nervously, his proximity electrifying all my senses.

"Uh hum," Alice cleared her throat, and we both turned in her direction, remembering that we were far from alone. "Is that for me?" she gestured to Edward's hand.

"Oh, um yes." Edward handed the black, velvet box in his hand out to Alice. "Jasper wanted me to give this to you," he said absently, his eyes not moving from mine.

I vaguely registered Alice's squeal as Edward offered me his hand, drawing me out to the hallway with him. He cradled my hand in his gently, as if afraid to hurt me.

"I wanted to talk with you before the ceremony starts. I have so much to tell you. But what I really want to say more than any of that…is just that you look so pretty, Bella. You take my breath away." He raised my hand to his lips, grazing the back of my hand with the softest of kisses.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I blurted, surprising myself. My face instantly flushed. Edward chuckled, squeezing my hand and smiling so earnestly I felt hope and joy bloom in my heart.

"After the ceremony…we need to find a quiet place to talk, okay?"

My mouth was open, ready to respond when Alice popped through the door, her eyes widening at our entwined hands. Edward instantly dropped my hand and took a step back. He shot me a quick look of apology and I smiled in return, knowing that much would be answered later in the day. And Alice didn't seem to be fazed by catching us holding hands, stepping up purposefully and placing a small box in Edward's hands.

"Will you give this to Jasper?" she asked and I turned to her, pushing all my bubbling anticipation to be with Edward to the background, so that I could return my focus to her.

"Sure," Edward replied, already scaling the stairs. "It's almost time, Sis," he called back over his shoulder.

"I'm ready," Alice yelled back, her voice clear and certain.

It seemed just a few minutes later when another knock sounded against Alice's door. We'd all been circled around Alice while Esme clasped Jasper's present around Alice's neck. The necklace was absolutely stunning and a clear indication of why Jasper and Alice were so perfect for one another. He knew her so well. He didn't get her a flawless diamond on a delicate silver chain, but a huge and chunky, rough-cut emerald set into silver, hanging appropriately from a fat, black leather choker.

Alice was transfixed on her image in the mirror while we complimented her on the beautiful and unique piece of jewelry. The emerald stood out so magnificently against the shimmery grey of her dress and the pale porcelain of her skin. It wasn't traditional, and it wasn't refined; regardless, she truly was the epitome of a beautiful bride.

When we heard the knock, I think we all knew that the time had come. The air was charged with energy. I sprang to action, opening the door for Carlisle whose warm, proud eyes immediately found Alice's.

"It's time, baby," he said simply, his voice trembling with emotion. But his hand as he held it out for her was sure and controlled. "You girls need to head up to your places," he suggested with a tip of his head.

As Esme walked past, he swatted her on the bottom with his free hand. She yelped out in surprise before planting a sweet kiss on her husband's cheek. "Take care of our daughter, Carlisle," she said with some seriousness. "Don't let her go until you get to the end of the aisle."

We all took a brief moment to wish Alice luck and to remind her of how beautiful she looked before we scurried up the stairs and into the backyard. I approached the entrance to the main tent, grasping my bouquet tightly between my two shaky hands.

I cradled Olivia into a hug, pulling her in front of me and kissing her cheek. "You are the most elegant flower girl I've ever seen," I told her as I placed the basket with flower petals into her hand. "Remember to wait for the music and then walk slowly," I reminded her. "You'll do great."

Just a few deep breaths later and the sound of a cello and violin flowed back to where we were huddled behind the flap of the tent. Olivia turned back to Rose and me, smiled brightly and asked, "Now?"

"Yes baby, now," Rose answered, kissing her on the cheek.

Olivia stepped around the flap into the entrance of the canopy. I got into position behind Rose, craning my neck to peek into the tent. But all I could see from my position was the back of Olivia's shiny black shoes and a handful of silver rose petals scattered across the carpet.

**Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a review! **

**I find myself looking for the unusual and unique stories these days. So here are some of the few that I've found and that I'm enjoying:**

**In Your World by solostintwilight – Bella goes to live with the Amish. Even if this doesn't sound appealing to you, give it a try, Amish Edward is adorably sweet.**

**Written in the Stars by Lissa Bryan – A depressed and suicidal Bella is kidnapped by aliens to mate with their Emperor. This one is so unusual, but well-written. Again, a sweet, tail-wielding Edward makes it worth reading.**

**Nightingale by Lady Gwynedd – Bella travels from England to the New World to be an indentured servant in the 18****th**** century. Edward, of course, is her new master. Interesting historical fiction and romance. **


	39. Chapter 39

I know I know it's been a while. Writing is hard. And I'm busy. But I love it and I won't give it up.

This is the first chapter of this story that I've posted un-betaed. I hope it's not too wonky. I read the chapter over about five or six times, editing as I went, but I probably still missed some things. Forgive me.

Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight. I own the plot of Second Chances. Don't steal words or ideas. It demeans you and me.

Thank you for reading and sticking with me on this long journey. I appreciate every one of you!

It's been some time so I thought I'd remind you:

Last time:

_When we heard the knock, I think we all knew that the time had come. The air was charged with energy. I sprang to action, opening the door for Carlisle whose warm, proud eyes immediately found Alice's._

"_It's time, baby," he said simply, his voice trembling with emotion. But his hand as he held it out for her was sure and controlled. "You girls need to head up to your places," he suggested with a tip of his head. _

_As Esme walked past, he swatted her on the bottom with his free hand. She yelped out in surprise before planting a sweet kiss on her husband's cheek. "Take care of our daughter, Carlisle," she said with some seriousness. "Don't let her go until you get to the end of the aisle." _

_We all took a brief moment to wish Alice luck and to remind her of how beautiful she looked before we scurried up the stairs and into the backyard. I approached the entrance to the main tent, grasping my bouquet tightly between my two shaky hands. _

_I cradled Olivia into a hug, pulling her in front of me and kissing her cheek. "You are the most elegant flower girl I've ever seen," I told her as I placed the basket with flower petals into her hand. "Remember to wait for the music and then walk slowly," I reminded her. "You'll do great."_

_Just a few deep breaths later and the sound of a cello and violin flowed back to where we were huddled behind the flap of the tent. Olivia turned back to Rose and me, smiled brightly and asked, "Now?"_

"_Yes baby, now," Rose answered, kissing her on the cheek._

_Olivia stepped around the flap into the entrance of the canopy. I got into position behind Rose, craning my neck to peek into the tent. But all I could see from my position was the back of Olivia's shiny black shoes and a handful of silver rose petals scattered across the carpet._

It was when the clapping began and Esme darted out from her seat to embrace Alice, that I was suddenly startled awake. I felt an instant pang of remorse that I'd only heard fragments of the ceremony that would forever bind two of my closest friends together. But from the moment I'd entered the tent, I'd lost focus on the time and place, preoccupied by a surge of heightened emotions.

I had been nervous about walking down the aisle, everyone watching. I felt the dull throb of my old injury in my leg, reminding me to tread carefully. For two or maybe three paces, I'd kept my eyes on the back of Rosalie's three-inch heels, finding solace in the rhythm of her practiced steps. But I couldn't wait any longer to see him. Seeing him was as important as breathing. As soon as I lifted my gaze and caught Edward's searing look – a look of possession and want – I felt pulled under as though in a dream.

I'd somehow made it to the end of the tent, shuffling up to my place next to Rosalie at the very edge of the decorated arch. My eyes swept across Jasper, Emmett and Edward - these men that all held a piece of my heart - all so handsome and polished in their suits. They were my family – not by blood – but by years of shared experience.

Jasper smirked at me, shrugging his shoulders casually, as if to say that the moment was inevitable, that making this absolute commitment to Alice was so right, it was effortless. I had only a second to throw a quick smile at Jasper before Alice and Carlisle appeared at the edge of the tent and began to make their way toward us. Alice's gaze never left Jasper as she floated forward and slipped her hand into his.

I heard bits of the vows uttered in breathy whispers, but nothing concrete, nothing that I could recall later. As soon the ceremony began, and the Mayor's soft-spoken speech touched upon notions like fate and true love, my soul reached out to Edward. From that point on, I couldn't tear my eyes away. I was transfixed by him – dashing and intense as he stood directly across from me, just outside of the arch.

There was such a weight to our gaze; I felt it in the very marrow of my bones. So many questions, so many needs passed between us. He was a mile away and yet so close at the same time. Our shared history both divided us and irrevocably linked us together. I almost felt as though I couldn't breathe if I looked away, as if our connection was somehow tied to my life force.

The ceremony seemed to end very suddenly, as if no time had transpired at all. Edward and I shifted our attention all at once to Alice on her tiptoes, planting an enthusiastic but short kiss on Jasper's lips. He smiled down at her, pulling her tightly into his arms and spinning them both in a circle. Edward chuckled, his happiness for his sister reflected on all our faces.

Only a moment passed before Alice tugged on Jasper's hand and we all followed, making our way back down the long aisle and outside the tent. I felt the heels of my shoes squish into the soft ground as Edward approached me in two long strides, his hand resting at my lower back. Alice led the wedding party toward a secluded area at the side of the house, where the photographer had set up his tripod in front of a weathered wooden bench. The backdrop of lush green ivy thoroughly camouflaged the brick wall behind us, creating the illusion we were ensconced in the forest.

Edward somehow managed to find a way to keep his hands on me one way or another as we posed for the pictures, ensuring we were always together. I felt like we were a cohesive unit that couldn't be separated. Though I smiled at the camera, following the directions of the photographer and his assistant, I was lost in Edward's touch through most of the shoot, trusting him to lead me with the gentle prod of his thigh, a soft tug of his fingers on my hips.

His hand laced with mine, whisking me along with him as soon as the photographs were done. I instinctively leaned in and walked alongside him, my mind focused only on the hope that he would never let me go again, that he would just keep walking alongside of me for the rest of my life.

Trying to meet Edward's long stride, I stumbled on a bulky tree root. Edward didn't hesitate a second before sliding his arm around my waist to offer me more support. I sighed in pleasure at the feeling of being so closely tucked into his side. My eyes scanned the pathway for an escape so that we could slip away and be alone. I longed to feel more of Edward's touch and connect with him without an audience.

Just as I completed this thought I realized that Edward was leading me back into the tent and that we were approaching the large table at the front, hot on the heels of Alice and Jasper. I barely noticed that attention had turned in our direction as we entered, yet when Carlisle began to speak, everyone's focus shifted to him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said in an authoritative voice, not loud, but confident and clear. "May I present to you, my beautiful daughter, Alice Cullen, and her husband, Jasper Cullen." There were a few gasps and murmured flashes of heated conversation among the polite clapping at Carlisle's announcement.

Alice and Jasper sat down and Edward briefly released my hand with a reluctant smile so that he could pull my chair out for me. As soon as Edward sat down next to me he reached over and grasped my hand, curling his long fingers around mine. Servers placed flutes of champagne on the tables as all the guests found their tables and were seated. As I picked the flute up in front of me, Jasper rose silently looking out at the group of family and friends that were gathered before he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Excuse me," he said, smiling in an infectious way. "I'd like to say a few things before the toasts and whatnot…" He paused, dragging his hand nervously through his hair. He looked down at Alice who was beaming at him. She grasped his hand and kissed his knuckles. He seemed to gather some courage from her gesture.

"Hardly anyone knows what I'm about to admit," Jasper said as he scanned the tables with his eyes. "But I'm ready to let go of my past now." His eye caught Alice's and he squeezed the hand she held out for him.

"One night when I was fifteen – I wasn't even old enough to drive – I stole one of my dad's favorite motorcycles…He liked those damn things more than he ever liked me…and I went for a joy ride. I'd been drinking and I was stupid. And of course…I crashed," he admitted, his eyes finding mine just as I gasped in surprise.

"What could have been the worst night of my life, turned out to be the best…that is, besides tonight, baby," he added to Alice with a wink. "Because I didn't crash my motorcycle into just anyone's car, I crashed into Dr. Carlisle Cullen's shiny, new BMW. Jasper looked toward Carlisle and Esme, his expression a mixture of love and awe.

"I was in shock and a little battered, but thankfully I didn't break anything. Luckily, the BMW wasn't too bashed up, but my dad's motorcycle was…well, it was trashed."

"Carlisle could have called the cops, he could have made sure that I never got my license, he could have done a lot of things." He shook his head from side to side at the memory. "But, not only did Carlisle patch up my bloody arms on the spot, but he offered me an ultimatum. I don't know what he saw in me that night, but he gave me a choice…and he gave me a chance.

"He told me that I had to go to rehab for the drinking and that I had to work for him on the weekends – clean up his garage, do some weeding for Esme – to pay for the damages on his car. And that I had to come see him for therapy…once a week. In exchange, he agreed not to report the accident, to alter the story of what happened a little bit," he chuckled, blushing. "And he'd pay to repair my Dad's bike."

"Of course I didn't want to do it, but even I knew a good deal when I heard one, so I agreed…I've never been so happy that I agreed to do anything in my entire life, because that first day I showed up at the Cullens to pay my debt, I met Alice and my life has never been the same." Jasper wiped tears away from the corners of his eyes as he looked down at his wife.

"I've loved Alice since the first time I set eyes on her. I knew I wanted to spend every day of the rest of my life with her. And it's no wonder that she's such an incredible woman…just look at her parents," he held his hand out towards Esme and Carlisle, their faces beaming at their new son-in-law. "Her beautiful mother, Esme, who is so full of love and generosity that everyone wishes she was their mom. And there is no man I respect more than Carlisle Cullen.

"And Emmett and Edward have been my brothers since the very beginning…they even helped me finish cleaning up the garage…remember guys? Stacking all those damn cans of paint?" he asked as Emmett and Edward chuckled at the memory. "Rosie too is my sister. Not just anyone deserves to be loved by Emmett…only someone very special in their own right. Edward and Emmett are both great men who have dedicated their lives to helping others just like their father," he said as he first caught Emmett's gaze and then landed a heated look on Edward that I didn't know how to interpret.

"And that's why, today when I wed my Alice, I also shed my name and become a Cullen, a true Cullen. Because these people here," he said, waving his champagne flute in an arc. "These are my family. I love them. And Alice, baby, I love you more than I can ever say. Here's to the beginning of the rest of our lives together."

"Here here," someone yelled as we all lifted our glasses along with Jasper and toasted to their happiness.

A woman server edged her way between Edward and me to place dishes of a very artistic and colorful salad down on the table, forcing Edward's hand from my lap. As soon as she moved I saw the back of Edward as he swiftly weaved his way through the servers and tables, disappearing into the house. I didn't think, but jumped up after him, swerving at the last second to miss a server who was struggling to maneuver an oversized pitcher filled with water and bobbing slices of lemon.

"Edward!" I called as I closed the French doors behind me. There was no answer. My eyes swept across the open space, searching for him fruitlessly. My shoes clacked loudly as I jogged toward the stairs, the sound grating on my ears. I hunched over, sliding them off my feet into a sloppy pile before hurtling down the stairs.

My heart beat accelerated, my palms sweating as I made my way down the hall. I passed by Alice's room until I was standing in front of Edward's door. The door to the guest room that used to be mine was slightly open and I glanced in there momentarily. I was foolishly saddened to see that it looked clean, fresh and unlived-in, as though my presence had no impact on the inanimate furnishings.

I didn't dwell on such thoughts, but turned to Edward's door. I thought of knocking, but inexplicably changed my mind, reaching for the doorknob and turning.

A rush of emotions hit me as I gazed in his room for the first time in so many years. And to find Edward sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, his fingers messing his hair into a sexy chaos as I'd seen him do so many times before, was almost surreal. And yet as I stepped forward into the room it was as I was coming home and everything felt just right…but not quite.

I had imagined that being in Edward's room with him would feel the same way as it always had, but it didn't. Neither one of us belonged here anymore. He was a man in a boy's room. And I was not the same girl I once was – the girl who idolized the man before me, who thought he was perfect and untouchable. No, I was a woman who was beginning to know Edward for who he really was – not a perfect man, but a wonderful man.

We could never go back and I realized I didn't want to. I needed to go through all that pain. I may have thought that we belonged together back when I was younger, but as I looked at the books, the records, the furnishings that were the backdrop for all my childhood yearnings and my fantasies, I saw just how distorted my views were. My perceptions had all been clouded by my immature perspective.

"Bella," Edward whispered with a heavy sigh, holding his hand out to me. I reached out and grabbed his hand, reaching for my future, reaching for the man who was in front of me. Even as a child, I sensed that our fates were intertwined. But our timing had been off. Perhaps we were never meant to grow so close until a time when we were both ready.

As I sat down next to him, I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't pushed so hard, neither one of us would have suffered so much. Maybe we wouldn't both be living such hollow, unfulfilling lives.

"I knew you would follow me," Edward said and I nodded, smiling.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, running my hand from his shoulder, down his arm, and back down to his hand.

"I needed a moment," he explained, his eyes asking for forgiveness. He pressed his lips to the back of my hand. I wanted to tell him that there was nothing to forgive, that I understood, that I would always be there for him. I never could stand to see him in any sort of pain.

"Edward…" I began, but he shook his head, stopping me.

"Jasper's praise hit a sore spot," he said, looking into my eyes with a grim smile. "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be included with the rest of my family."

I was about to contradict him but he stopped me again, placing his fingers on my lips. "Don't say anything. I know you'll defend me, Bella. I can always trust you to be on my side. But the truth of the matter is…I've been selfish. I truly intended to devote my life to helping others, but I became so consumed with my own misery that I lost my way.

"I mean to change that…I think that I already have. I'm determined to be worthy of Jasper's praise…and yours. I really have so much to tell you, but…let's save it for a little later, okay?" I could sense he was done talking for the moment.

"Alright," I agreed.

He stood, offering me his arm. "Let's get back to the reception."

I didn't care that several pairs of eyes were on us as we walked through the tent toward our chairs at the head table. Edward had moved his hand from my lower back to curl around my hips, urging me infinitely closer to him as we shifted our linked bodies around the tables. I caught Esme's eye as she elbowed Carlisle at her side. I sat down across from her, trying in vain to ignore her impish grin of approval.

Though I was embarrassed by her attention, I also inherently relished it. Her motherly warmth filled the void left by my mother. When I thought of her, I was no longer angry, but only saddened. I was saddened that she would never get to experience a moment like this with me. She would never see me marry nor have children of my own. She would never be a grandmother. There was so much she was going to miss. I wish she would have known that there was so much joy in life if you chose to embrace it.

I barely touched the grilled portabella mushroom steak that was waiting on the plate before me. The small, delicate vegetable pot pie that was placed artistically at its side - pungent with the homey scents of rosemary and dill - would normally be irresistible, but I couldn't find the appetite to eat it. My stomach was churning with anxiety as if it were my own wedding and not Alice's.

"It's truly a shame that Alice won't even get a chance to taste all this food that she stressed over for so long," Rosalie said from her seat at my side, somehow channeling my thoughts. I looked over to see that Alice was turned away from her uneaten dinner, speaking with a small elderly woman with a cold but lovely face that was striking in its resemblance to Esme.

"I don't think anyone's really missing the meat though, do you? Oh, maybe that guy," Rosalie suggested, nodding her head in the direction of a gaunt older man, a stern expression marring his angular features. He was standing uncomfortably behind the woman who now had both of Alice's hands clasped in her tiny ones. Somehow I knew at once that these must be the Platts, Esme's parents.

Esme seemed to be doing all she could to tolerate their presence without being completely welcoming. Knowing a little of their history that Edward had told me, I understood the tension in the air between them. Yet I couldn't help but think that their decision to come all the way to Alice's wedding had been a peace offering of sorts.

A musician with a long goatee, a motley mismatched outfit and a black beret covering an unkempt ponytail swept past the table, an accordion nestled in his arms. I recognized the romantic song, _La Vie en Rose _as he strutted further away, strains of music floating behind him.

I glanced at Edward by my side to see that he was watching the exchange between his sister and grandmother as I was, and seemed pleased by what he saw. He smiled shyly at me while his hand disappeared under the table to squeeze my thigh – a move both tantalizing and comforting all at once. In reaction, I dropped my fork to my plate, the heavy stainless handle clunking loudly on the porcelain.

"Oh sorry," I muttered, blushing to the few at the table whose attention I'd drawn.

Alice and Jasper used my interruption to dash away to where a server was wheeling out a round table with the exquisite wedding cake centered on a gauzy, black tablecloth. The cake was three-tiered as is traditional, but covered with an almost iridescent grey fondant. Covering the fondant were hundreds of tiny indigo flowers, painstakingly mimicking a field of wildflowers in a stony meadow. It was a true work of art and I was hesitant to see it cut into and eaten.

I was so distracted by this thought that I didn't at first realize that Edward was pushing his chair back and readying to stand and he was urging me to follow him. "Toasts," he whispered urgently, raising his brows.

"Toasts?" I repeated stupidly. He nodded, grabbing a flute of champagne from a server.

"Oh…oh," I stammered, clumsily standing next to him and reaching out to take my own glass from a tray full of the bubbling liquid.

As soon as I had the drink in my hand, Edward shifted his focus toward Alice and Jasper who were now standing near the cake table, holding hands and throwing happy grins out at the crowd. Edward lightly tapped the edge of his knife against his glass, a sharp tinkling rousing the guests and directing their gaze our way.

"I believe it's time for toasts," he announced, his smooth, confident voice washing across the temporary structure. I wasn't the only one looking at him with admiration. He was incredibly handsome and poised; so like Esme in his grace, Carlisle in his bearing. He simply took my breath away. I marveled at his composure. It was as if he spoke in front of crowds every day.

"I have to be honest that when Jasper told me that he and Alice were finally getting married I probably didn't react as surprised as I should have. I mean, I guess we all kind of knew this day was coming since Jasper first started hanging around our house. Alice was probably only – what fourteen?" he asked her and she nodded in affirmation, her eyes watery.

"It wasn't long that, Jasper became like another brother to me. He fit into our family so well; it was almost like he'd always been there. I can't exactly say when I started to think of Alice and Jasper as a unit, but it's been a long time since I can think of one of them without the other.

"Alice, you'll always be my baby sister. The same girl that Emmett and I used to throw around and let ride on our backs. I used to think that I'd never see you as anything but the little girl that used to make sculptures out of mud in our backyard, or finger-painted all over your bedroom wall. But now you're a woman – a woman I admire so much." He paused, overcome with emotion and wiped a tear that slipped down his cheek. I squeezed his hand.

"And I just…well, I just couldn't be happier in your choice of husbands. It could have been really difficult for you, you know…with two big brothers? We could have easily scared some boys away if we didn't approve. But we never had to. It's always been Jasper for you and that kind of love…that kind of love is special and should never be denied. You have to reach out and embrace it when it finds you, because…it's unique."

Edward squeezed my hand tightly and I felt my heart flutter at his words, knowing that they, in some way, applied to his feelings for me. I looked down as a blush came over me, hoping that no one would notice my reaction to his poetic words.

"So, I'm going to wind this up now by saying that I speak for all our family when I say, Jasper, how proud we are that you are a Cullen now. And welcome to our family, brother."

Edward finished by taking a long sip from his glass. Alice and Jasper both made their way across the room and pulled us both – since Edward refused to let go of my hand – into a warm embrace. "I love you," Alice murmured into our circle.

I felt included in a way I'd never had before, and it was all because of Edward. Edward's firm hold on my hand tethered me to him and to the moment, filling me up completely with happiness and a sense of belonging that I'd yearned for my whole life.

"Let's cut the cake now," Jasper said as he reached up to loosen his tie, revealing a triangle of the beautiful inked skin at the swell of his chest. He rubbed his hands together like he was preparing for a strenuous task. Alice reached out and placed the silver cake knife into Jasper's hand, the black ribbon tied around the handle looking comically dainty.

Edward never once let go of my hand as Alice and Jasper cut a few careless jabs at the cake and sweetly fed them to each other. I wavered back and forth between concentrating on his hand and relishing in the tingling sensations of his touch and in feeling a newfound sense of grounding and comfort that he seemed to emanate.

Soft music began to play in the background and some guests nibbled on cake while tables were pushed to the shoulders of the tent to make room for dancing. Edward and I shuffled to the side as Alice swished forward to the center of the floor, a radiant dark princess of fantasy.

A DJ, who'd set-up his small booth while we'd all been busy eating, announced the father-daughter dance as Carlisle joined Alice on the dance floor, taking her hand and pulling her into a hug. Frank Sinatra's voice belted from the speakers and as they began to glide across the dance floor, Carlisle sang along with him, mouthing the words to the song, _As Time Goes By_.

The song choice was Alice's nod to her father's favorite movie, _Casablanca_. When they had been dancing for several minutes Jasper pulled Esme out onto the floor, spinning her dramatically in a circle until she giggled like a young girl.

When Emmett swept Olivia up into his arms and joined them, Edward slipped his hand around my waist, dropping his eyes to mine. "Dance with me, Bella." He didn't wait for my response, but he didn't need to. Despite the fact that I didn't have the first idea about dancing, I followed him willingly to the dance floor, always eager for any kind of physical contact with him.

Edward quickly sensed my awkwardness, pulling me closer so that there was very little space between us. "Just stay tight with me. I'll lead you," he whispered.

I tucked my head against his chest, giving into the feeling of holding him while swaying to the music. His palm flattened against my back, pulling me infinitely closer. I wondered if he felt like I did – that we could never get close enough.

I moved my hands up his back, running my hands along his shoulders. I delighted in how his muscles flexed as I felt them, so dense and smooth to the touch. Edward made a little humming noise as though savoring a bite of chocolate. "Bella…" he purred.

As a new song started, his head dipped to my ear. "I'm conflicted," he said. Surprised by his statement I pulled my head away from his chest to look at his expression.

"What?"

"It's just that I could hold you all day like this," he admitted. "I love having the excuse to hold you in my arms like this. But, I really don't want all these witnesses around when I give into the desire to do more than just hold you," he growled in a sexy voice that nearly made my knees buckle.

"To be honest, though I'd love to dance some more, I really want to talk. I have so much that I need to tell you. And I feel like I can't really begin living the rest of my life until I get some things off my chest." His face was so sincere and pleading that I didn't hesitate to give him what he wanted.

"I love dancing with you too, but…let's go find a quiet spot and talk," I offered.

A few minutes later I found myself sitting on the wooden bench where we'd taken the wedding photos, Edward at my side, but not too close. The air was cool, but thankfully not too damp. Before I could even assess whether I was cold or not, Edward had taken off his suit jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

"We can move inside in just a bit, but I don't want to get distracted. Having you in my room…there are so many memories…"

"It's fine. I like it out here," I said, taking in the beauty of our surroundings. The lush greenery was almost painful to the eye it was so vibrant. And we were far enough from the tents that, despite the background hum of the music, I could almost imagine we were alone in the forest.

"The first thing I need to tell you, that I need you to understand, is that seeing you again in Seattle – after so much time – it changed my life. It changed everything," he said passionately, the hot look in his eyes confirming his words.

"You changed my life too," I confessed, immediately bringing to mind the mock-up of the book I'd brought with me to share with Edward.

"You're perfect the way you are."

"No, no I'm not," I blurted. I thought of all the ways my life had been lacking. Edward paused, perhaps sensing that I wanted to continue my thought. "Do you sometimes wonder if you're not living up to your potential? I just…I just recently realized that I've been on the wrong path for way too long."

"I feel the same way," Edward replied almost excitedly. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of my hands as though wanting a physical manifestation to the synchronicity of our minds. "I've been drifting, floating, not taking charge of my life. I'm truly ashamed of who I've become."

"No…Edward," I disagreed, finding it almost painful to see him so critical of himself.

"It's true, Bella, I've been numb to the things around me. I was so wrapped up in avoiding feeling anything that I failed to see that I was enabling Heidi with her illness. I've been trained to help people with her exact _fucking _issues for _Christsakes_, and still I allowed her to disintegrate around me. It's unforgivable!"

Edward had dropped my hands as he started to get more agitated. He pulled his fingers angrily through his hair as he leaned forward on the bench. I tugged on his arm, willing him to stop and forced his hands back in mine.

"I think back to when I was working at the clinic in Forks and to our group therapy sessions…I was so sure I could help you all…that I was prepared, that I knew everything there was to know to help someone who lived with an addict. And there I was, living with an addict myself and not doing one goddamn thing to really help her. Believe me, the irony is not lost on me," he said bitterly.

"But, you see it all now, right? You've changed?" I asked, wanting to draw Edward's thoughts away from the dark place they'd gone and hoping to hear the right answer from his lips.

"Yes," he sighed. "I've somehow gotten a second chance at making things right, and I've been doing everything I can to turn things around…for everyone." It was a promise he was making and my heart fluttered in my chest in anticipation of hearing more.

"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"As soon as I got back to San Francisco I confronted Heidi about her drug addiction."

"How did she react?"

"I think at first I frightened her with my intensity. She really didn't know I was capable of so much feeling. She was actually shocked that I was paying her so much attention, that I actually noticed or cared that she was doing something that could potentially harm her. When she realized that I was serious, she tried to deny she had a problem. But the more I talked, the more I told her what I'd noticed about her behavior, her resistance just sort of crumbled.

"I'd done some research and found a great rehab center in the Santa Cruz mountains called Summit Estates, that's known for getting results but also catering to a high-end clientele." He chuckled, "I tried to make it sound more like a spa than a rehab center. It wasn't hard; the photos on their website show these incredible rooms with hardwood floors, fireplaces and beautiful gardens. They eat gourmet meals with organic fruits and vegetables that they grow themselves. And part of their therapy is daily yoga and meditation, hiking, massages, fishing. So I got her to agree to at least visit the facilities and go to an interview with the director."

"Wait – fishing?" I asked, trying to imagine wan, prissy Heidi baiting a fishing hook with a worm. "I can't see that happening."

"Well, maybe not the fishing," he conceded with a small smile. "But all the other stuff was enough to entice her to let me drive her up there to check it out. And the whole time I was trying to be optimistic, make it sound like a great place - telling her about all the features of the center - telling her that it was going to be like a vacation."

"Was it really so easy?" I mumbled, my thoughts spilling over.

"No, it wasn't that easy, Bella. I just don't want to tell you everything. There were moments when…well she threatened things, she broke down, she cried a lot, and she tried to pretend that everything was the same as it always was. But…I think, she could tell I was different…that I wasn't going to give in or look the other way. You have to understand, I had never given her so much attention before," he confessed guiltily. "And though she didn't expect it from me, she was desperate for some attention."

"What about her father? What did he have to say about all this?"

"Hmm, well…he wasn't too happy when he figured out what I'd done."

"What do you mean?"

"I decided that I needed Heidi to visit the center and have her interview before we told her father about it. I was pretty sure that they wouldn't turn her away, but a potential patient needs to be assessed before they agree to accept them into their program. They wouldn't take her if they thought she might be suicidal – she'd have to go to a more secure facility. But I was hopeful.

"It was so great…I mean, she listened to me. And I felt like I used to…back when I was running our group – like I had the power to help her…that the tools were all there," he said incredulously. "And Bella," he said, squeezing my hands tightly and sitting up straighter. "She was never pregnant. She lied about the baby." He swallowed heavily, pushing the words out.

"She confessed that the whole thing was her father's idea. When she told me, she actually got angry. I've never seen her mad…ever. She screamed that she hated him, threw the lamp across her flat."

"Oh my god." I was trying to process all he was telling me. It almost seemed unreal. I remembered Tanya doubting that Heidi had been pregnant and how I'd wished so desperately at the time that it was all a lie. And now to hear that it actually was a lie, that it had been some kind of sordid scheme, I couldn't fully grasp the reality of it.

"I planned on confronting Aro about his lies and telling him about taking Heidi to the center after I was sure that it was going to happen. I needed to be sure that Heidi would agree to go and that they would take her. And…I hoped that maybe Heidi would tell her father herself."

"I think that was a good decision," I said.

"Yeah, it was…I can't tell you how strange – how amazing – it was to see how Heidi changed when we got to the facility," Edward said with a sense of awe. I couldn't help feeling a stab of envy even though intrinsically I knew that it was unfounded.

"It didn't hurt that it was a beautiful day and the redwoods were gorgeous on the drive up there. Heidi was maybe still a little high," he admitted. "But it helped that she was relaxed when we arrived and that the man who runs the clinic is um…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, he is rather attractive in a kind of hippyish way. He was a good distraction anyway."

Edward ended this confession with a grimace that quickly morphed into a smile. "I wish…I wish," he stammered, as if searching for words. "Well I'd like to think that things happen for a reason. That there is some purpose to why things happen how and when they do," Edward began to explain, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps nearing our secret hiding place.

"Bella!" I heard Rosalie call and I moved to pull my hands from Edward's, but he just held on tighter. I looked up to smile at him just as Rosalie approached.

"There you guys are," she said, seemingly unsurprised to find us tucked away together holding hands. "You know you can't hide out here all night. You'll have plenty of time later to do whatever it is you need to do," she said with a wave of her arm. "We miss you guys…come dance…and have some cake," she demanded as she whirled back around and walked away.

"She's right, we should get back," I conceded.

"I have more I need to tell you, but I'll save it for later," Edward whispered with a grin. "There's just one more thing I want to do before we go back," he said, dropping my hands.

He took a deep breath as I searched his gaze for what he wanted from me. "I just need to kiss you again," he whispered so lightly I wondered if I was supposed to hear. His hands ran from my shoulders down my arms, wrapping around my back and pulling me closer. His tongue moistened his lower lip and I found myself repeating the motion as he leaned down to me, his mouth softly grazing mine.

I pushed my hands up into his hair, pulling his head down so that our kiss deepened. Heat surged through my body as we connected and I sucked his tongue into my mouth as I pushed my breasts into his chest. We only pulled away for a moment to breathe, Edward hardly pausing before returning his lips to my face, kissing all along my jaw and down my neck.

I was drowning in the sensation, pulled along in the swell of his passion. He was the only one…the only man who could make me feel like this. The sensuous touch of his lips on my skin made me want to throw away all my inhibitions and give myself to him with wild abandon.

"Oh Edward," I moaned, my nails clawing into his back.

"Bella…oh…we have to stop or I'll never be able to," he said even as he ran his nose along my jaw, his lips trailing in its wake. He tangled his fingers in mine as though restraining himself and I wanted to tell him not to…to continue to make love to me…to never let go.

He raised our joined hands to his lips, squeezing them together almost painfully. He kissed the backs of both of my hands and then looked me directly in the eyes, his green eyes blazing with the same intensity that they'd always had for me. I finally understood what his gaze had been telling me all this time. He cared for me…deeply. He always had.

I felt tears pool in my eyes as my heart swelled with joy. Edward kissed away the tear that spilled down my cheek, pressing his cheek against mine. _Was this it? Was this finally our time?_ I wondered.

"Bella…I love you," he said. "I love you."

Thank you so much for reading. We truly are nearing the end. I won't say how many chapters because I don't know; the story is writing itself! If you have time, I'd love and appreciate a review. I will try very hard to write responses back to each and every one.


	40. Chapter 40

**I was going to post this update yesterday, but instead spent hours trying to dye the green out of my daughter's hair. It was electric blue, but had faded to a moldy green color. Evidently, blue is the hardest color to get out of hair (it was a semi-permanent dye – it was supposed to wash out completely.) After several hours we were successful and now her hair is a beautiful Marilyn blond (thank God!)**

**Thanks as always to for polishing up my writing.**

**I'm anxious to hear what you think of this chapter! It is not yet the end – one more, I think, to go.**

**Disclaimer: SM owns. I don't.**

Though I was nervous, I felt a surge of power with the tiller in my hand. I eased it closer to my body, feeling the sailboat groan as it shifted direction, forcing its way through the resistant waves. I tightened my grip as the swell lifted the prow of the boat into the sky. I held my breath until the boat lunged downward, dropping heavily, slapping against the water. Salty spray spurted over the sides and into my face.

I gasped in surprise and wiped the water from my chin, squinting into the sun to where Edward was perched, his shoulders vibrating with laughter. He shot me a sympathetic gaze as he pulled on a heavy rope, wrapping it around a winch at the side of the boat. I was trying to concentrate on steering, but I couldn't stop from looking at the way the muscles on his arms stretched as he worked.

Even though this was our second time out sailing, I was still amazed at how confident and graceful Edward seemed on the boat. The hull was a natural extension of his body, as if he were in total command of its motions. I found his skill on the boat incredibly attractive. I was surprised that even at the mercy of the wind and the waves he made me feel safe and comfortable.

It was still hard for me to believe that we were here on this beautiful boat, sailing across Casco Bay in Maine, on the opposite coast from which we started. It had been a huge surprise when Edward had received the invitation from his grandparents to visit them at their vacation home. It was even more surprising to find that Edward's grandfather owned his own beautiful thirty-foot sailboat and had been sailing all his life. It appeared that sailing was in Edward's blood.

I loved to see him so relaxed, so free of tension. As the hull cut across the waves, the wind lapping at the sails, I truly felt like we were leaving our pasts behind and surging forward into the future.

For the first time in my life, I was actually beginning to get used to feeling safe and easy in my skin. Having Edward at my side grounded me in a way I never knew I needed. And now I would never go back to the way things were before.

Edward and I had been inseparable since Alice and Jasper's wedding, making up for lost time, trying to replace painful memories with new ones. I almost couldn't believe that I was capable of feeling so much happiness. I found myself doubting that it would last. And yet I forced myself to believe that I deserved this. I deserved to feel whole for the first time in my life. It was a fairytale, but it was _my_ fairytale and I was going to hold on tight and make it my reality forever.

Our fairytale began the night of Alice and Jasper's wedding. It had been a magical night.

Even though Rosalie had discovered our hiding spot and interrupted our conversation, Edward had said enough. I was so reassured by Edward's words that I truly believed we were getting our second chance to be together. With the assurance that we'd have more time to talk when the wedding was over, Edward and I returned to the festivities. We agreed to commit to giving our attention to celebrating first, reconnecting later.

We danced many more dances, we drank more champagne, we ate slices of the divine cake, and enjoyed every moment of our time with Edward's family. At one point when Alice was distracted dancing with her new husband, Rosalie and I escaped to Alice's bedroom. It only took us a few minutes to transform it from her childhood room to a romantic retreat from the emotional whirlwind of their wedding. We lit dozens of tealight candles, turned on some rhythmic Egyptian music at low volume and draped gauzy fabrics over the canopy of her bed.

As soon as we were done, we signaled Jasper. In response, he excitedly swung Alice off her feet – eliciting a squeal of surprise – and carried her away. Though it was their wedding night, they only had a few short hours to sleep before they had to get up to drive back to the airport in Seattle.

Since he'd left all the wedding details up to Alice, Jasper had taken on the job of planning the honeymoon by himself. He hadn't revealed their destination to Alice yet, wanting it to be a surprise. But before he'd purchased tickets, he'd asked Rosalie and me our opinions on his idea so we knew where they were going and had tried to hint at it with our decorations.

As I fluffed their pillows and lit the last few sandalwood-scented candles by their bed, I wished that I could see Alice's reaction when Jasper told her that he'd booked them a luxury cruise down the Nile in Egypt. It was the absolute perfect kind of vacation for Alice – exotic and stimulating, but also romantic and relaxing. I almost wanted to get up early to see her excitement, but I had a feeling that I wouldn't be available.

It was only a few moments after Alice and Jasper disappeared that Edward found me and began to lead me to the front of the house. "Where are your things?" Edward asked anxiously as we stood in the entryway.

"I left them in my car."

"Wait here. I'll be right back," he said, quickly leaning down to plant a soft kiss on my cheek before darting down the stairs.

A thrill of excitement fluttered in my belly as I waited for his return. We were finally going to have our moment. I shook out my arms in an attempt to expel my nerves, my eyes falling to the book that I'd absently placed by the front entryway when I'd arrived. It served as another reminder of how much Edward and I still needed to discuss. I grasped the book, studying Alice's drawing on the cover, and relishing in the sense of pride I felt in seeing my name on the bottom corner, printed in bold, blocky letters.

As soon as I heard Edward coming back up the stairs I tucked the book under my arm. I'd wait for the right moment to share it with him.

"I guess I should have asked before I got my suitcase," Edward stammered nervously. "But…will you come somewhere with me? I mean, for tonight?" I was momentarily stunned by his doubt. He seemed so uncertain of my answer. Didn't he know the depth of my feelings? Perhaps this was it…the next step forward into our future. It was a big step. But I was sure I wanted to take it.

"Yes, of course," I said, reaching forward to take his hand. "I'll go…wherever you want." His answering smile was so heartfelt I had to look away. I felt a twinge of fear. I wanted this so badly; my feelings were overwhelming.

I couldn't wait for the next chapter of my life to start. I was ready to rise above the numb apathy that I'd lived with for so long. The numbness had been my coping mechanism, carrying me through the difficult times in my life. I never had anything to lose when I wasn't really feeling. Now, it was different. I was allowing myself to feel…everything.

My heart was at risk, but I only had to look back up at Edward's piercing green eyes to know, without any doubt, that he was worth it. Being with Edward was worth risking it all.

"Let's go," I said, tightening my fingers around the book under my arm.

As soon as we transferred my bag into Edward's car, a steady drizzle began to fall. Except for the rhythmic patter of the raindrops and the scraping swish of the windshield wipers, we were silent on the drive to our mysterious location. Though I was nervous, the movement of the car lulled me into a comfortable trance.

When we turned down a narrow, unpaved driveway, my heart sped up and I widened my eyes, trying to figure out where we were. I could feel my hands tremble so I slipped them under my thighs to hide them.

"We're here," Edward announced as we turned onto a short narrow bridge that led to a paved road. I could see a large structure in the distance, welcomingly illuminated.

"Where are we?" My eyes were wide and my mouth was open in awe at the sight of the large house. It was a huge, two-storied, log-cabin style house with huge columns made of broad tree trunks. Several oversized lanterns with soft, amber glass shades hung over a wide porch that appeared to stretch around the entire perimeter of the house.

I noted the inviting rocking chairs on the porch that hinted of lazy times to come as I stepped out of the car. Thunder rumbled nearby, jolting me so that my legs automatically moved toward the house.

"This is actually Billy Black's house," Edward replied as he reached into the car's trunk to retrieve our bags. He started to move more quickly as the rain began to fall, gesturing toward the house so that I would seek shelter.

"Billy's?" I asked as he met me by the front door with our bags.

"Yeah." He fumbled with the keys in his hand, searching for the right one. "Um…your dad…actually recommended it to me."

"What? Charlie?" I was processing this information as Edward finally got the door open and ushered me inside in front of him. I was momentarily stupefied by the opulence of the surroundings. There were so many things competing for my attention that I struggled to take it all in.

The entire interior was decorated with deep masculine colors, framed with dark wood accents. All the furniture was on a massive scale – huge couches, oversized chairs and ottomans - seemingly designed to provide the ultimate in comfort.

There was an enormous chandelier that hung over the center of the room with dozens of mica shades that cast the room in a soft glow. But the light from the fire in the fireplace – the biggest one I'd ever seen - overshadowed the impact of the chandelier. The stone hearth was large enough that I could stand inside of it, each of the round stones bigger than the size of a basketball. I approached the chair closest to the fire and sat down, sinking into the engulfing cushion. "Oh wow," I exclaimed, finally noticing the massive wall of windows that spanned the back wall of the house. "What lake is that?"

By the faint light of the moon I could just make out the tree-lined lake, lights from a few other houses dotting its perimeter.

"It's Crescent Lake. Jake Black bought this house for his dad a few years back. Your dad said he doesn't like it much though. Too fancy or something. So he doesn't spend much time here and rents it out. They use it at Christmas and for holidays. Otherwise, I guess he stays on the Res."

"And Charlie recommended it to you?"

"I saw him when I first got to town. I stopped to see Emmett at the station and he was there. I asked him if he knew of any properties for rent near town. I might have distorted the truth a little and told him that I needed a nice place for some relatives to stay for the wedding. Really, I just wanted something special…for us."

"Wow. Weird," I muttered, thinking of my dad and wondering just how rich Jake must be now.

"Would you like some wine…or…" Edward offered, running his hand nervously through his hair.

"How about some tea?" I asked, thinking I'd rather be alert for now.

"Sounds good," he smiled. "I'll put on the kettle." He headed down a long hallway, calling over his shoulder as he disappeared from view. "Why don't you explore a little while I get our tea?"

I could feel the fatigue of the day hit me as I pushed myself out of the chair, but I shrugged it off. This was an important night. I could rest later.

I peeked down the hallway toward the grand kitchen, catching a glimpse of Edward with a bright red kettle in his hands. That familiar tug was there: that need to gravitate closer to him. But I forced myself to turn away before I became consumed with watching him. We had time, I reminded myself. This night was ours.

"Herbal or black?" I heard him yell as I glanced through an archway into a small sitting room at the front of the house.

"Black," I yelled back down the hallway. I needed the caffeine.

I pushed opened the door behind me to find an elegant bathroom with an antique vanity and fixtures. The wall was covered in a Victorian embossed paper that made me feel like I'd stepped back in time. I caught my reflection in the oval mirror above the sink, surprised to see the look on my face. I looked tired, but happy. But more than that…I looked pretty. I _felt_ pretty. More pretty than I'd ever felt before.

I tucked my hair behind my ears and turned off the light. I was about to turn around and continue my tour of the house but Edward stepped into the hall, two steaming cups in his hands.

"Ready?" he asked. We'd waited long enough.

"Yes," I said, taking the cup he held out to me and following him back into the vast living room area.

He sat down on the large couch, nodding to the space next to him. The warmth from the fire curled around me, sinking into my bones. I sighed as I held the warm cup between my two hands. I kicked my shoes off, tucking my legs underneath me and angling my body towards Edward.

"While I was making our tea I realized that I haven't yet asked about you…how you're doing…what you've been up to since we last saw one another. You've been on my mind constantly these past few weeks." He took a sip from his tea, then placing it down on the table at his side. He pulled his fingers through his hair and I was struck with the notion that he suddenly seemed guilty.

I was about to answer his query when he spoke again, his voice just a whisper. "I have to admit something." His gaze watched me as I tilted my cup to my lips, travelling to catch my eyes.

"I checked up on you. I called Alice nearly once a week, digging for information. I'm fairly certain that I irritated the shit out of her. She really didn't give me much," he reassured. "But she hinted that you were making some changes in your life too. And said that you were working on something together. That book…that you were holding in the car…was that it?"

A spasm of shock hit me and I flinched, hot tea spurting out of my cup and onto my legs. I had no idea that he'd noticed the book. I wondered if he had been as distracted by studying me as I was by him. What else had he observed about me?

"We should change out of these clothes. So we can be more comfortable," he suggested, pointing to the large damp spot on my dress.

Edward insisted that I change in the master bedroom while he took the guest room next to it. I barely took in the stone fireplace - a miniature copy of the one in the living room - or the romantic white linens on the king-sized bed. I was anxious to get back to Edward. I only hesitated a moment before slipping into my cotton pajama pants and a grey tank top. I wanted to be comfortable for the rest of our night together. I wanted to be myself.

Edward and I both chuckled when we met in the hallway. His grey sleep pants and white t-shirt were like the male version of my night clothes. In fact they were so similar to mine we appeared like catalog models for a sleepwear clothing line. Somehow, even as Edward grasped my hand and tangled his fingers with mine, this thought made me even more at ease in his company.

We returned to our spots on the couch and I snuggled a little closer to him than previously, my desire to touch him overpowering any lingering trace of shyness. He must have felt the same compulsion as he reached out to caress my cheek, slowly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Tell me about the book, Bella."

And so I did. I told him how Alice and Seth had approached me and how excited I'd been to take part in their project. I tried to convey how inspired I'd felt by Alice's artwork and the beauty of the Quileute legends and how everything felt right in my life for the first time in so long.

When I showed him the mock-up of our book, I swelled with pride. I felt like I'd put a part of me into each thought and every word and I couldn't wait to share it with him. The look of awe and admiration on his face as he carefully flipped through the pages gave me an even greater sense of accomplishment. That he liked the book, that he saw the beauty in it, was more important to me than anything. I didn't care if it made money or if it was read by one or thousands of children, I was proud of what we'd created. And if Edward liked it too…that was the icing on my cake.

He turned the last page, his fingertip caressing the final words before he closed the book and placed it gingerly on the couch between us. "Why are you crying, sweet girl?" he said as he wiped away the tears on my face. I hadn't even realized that I'd been crying. "The book is just beautiful…amazing. I am so incredibly proud of you." He looked determined, but concerned as the tears kept flowing from my eyes.

"Bella?" he questioned. I shook my head to let him know that it was okay.

"I'm just happy," I managed to mumble through my tears.

"I'm so glad," Edward whispered into my neck as he placed his arm around me and pulled me closer so that I was leaning in to him. I relished the feeling of our bodies melding together. I fought the urge to squish even closer, to climb up onto his lap.

It finally seemed like all the pieces of my life were falling into place. I felt a sense of contentedness that I'd never before experienced. And a huge part of that was due to the man who held me securely in his arms, the man who saw the real me – with all my emotional scars and insecurities – and still cared for me.

It was almost perfect. But there was still a boundary that we had to cross. There was still something – someone – between us. And I was feeling greedy. I had my happy ending within my reach and I was forging forward. I had to know what I was still up against.

"What happened with Heidi…at the retreat," I asked, shifting the focus of our conversation.

"I was wondering if you would get around to asking me about that," Edward teased mirthfully. I hit him lightly in the chest, not truly affronted and even a bit relieved by his lighthearted tone.

"So where did I stop off at…oh yeah, I believe we were kissing," he replied, leaning toward my face as if to kiss me again. Even as I held my arms out to stop him, my chest fluttered in anticipation and a surge of heat flushed my cheeks.

"Hey," I chastised. "I need to hear this."

"Kissing later, then?" he smirked, his green eyes sparkling.

"Kissing later," I agreed, lowering my hands from his chest.

"Heidi was um…high when you got to the center? And you said something about the man who ran the center?" I prodded, trying to get him back on track.

"Oh yeah, evidently it's not unusual for new patients to go through detox at the center. They prefer to have it happen when a medical and psychological team is present to help with the process."

An image of Heidi popped into my mind – her hollow look, her terribly thin arms. "Did she agree to stay right away?"

"Not exactly. She was silent for the first hour or so that we were there. But she followed directions, and while we were given a tour of the facilities, I could tell she was slowly taking it all in. She didn't say anything until we got to the end of the tour and stopped into the main office."

"What did she have to say?"

"Well, Benjamin…he's the one who runs the center – actually, he owns it," Edward clarified, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Um…I'll tell more about that later," he assured before returning his initial statement. "Benjamin greets all the new patients, assesses their needs, and explains the details of the programs they offer."

"He paints a very clear, convincing picture of the center and its success rate. He's very good at his job," admitted Edward. He seemed almost reverent in his description of Benjamin and had me curious as to the nature of their relationship.

"You sound like he impressed you too," I offered.

"He did. He is very charismatic, quick-witted, but even tempered…calm. Without even a word from her, he quickly figured out what Heidi's issues were. He was sympathetic, but he was also very direct. He told her that she needed what they offered and that he was absolutely positive that they could help her turn her life around."

"Did he convince her?" I was curious what her response had been or if she even responded at all.

"It was strange. At first, she was very stiff and almost absent. But as he began to describe what he imagined she was going through, she seemed to relax and loosen up. When he told her that he was sure that he could help make her happy again, he actually walked up to her, kneeled and grabbed her hands. She was so shocked that she gasped and instantly began to cry.

"And she just kind of folded in on herself, dropping her head to Benjamin's shoulder and cried for several minutes straight. I almost felt like leaving the room, but Benjamin gestured for me to stay and after a few minutes she sat back up. And it was almost like she was a different person – she looked sad, but she looked awake and determined, I guess," he said uncertainly, like he was still trying to understand it.

"It must have been a relief to her…I mean, to have someone make that promise to her," I said.

"Yes," Edward agreed with a look of shame. "I could never give her that. I could never make her happy. Our relationship was built on lies and feelings of obligation. I blame myself for allowing her to get so bad. If I'd only been honest with her - with myself - sooner, I feel like I could have prevented…"

"It's no use regretting the past. You did help her. You might have done it sooner, but we can't go back and change things. We just have to do the best we can now. And you have. You found her help."

"Yes," Edward sighed, reaching out for me and pulling me closer. His fingers tangled in my hair, rubbing my scalp behind my ear. The sensation was so relaxing it made me feel like purring like a cat. I moaned instead, dropping my head to Edward's shoulder and wrapping my hand around his waist.

"So she agreed to stay?" I mumbled my question into Edward's chest.

"She did," he answered, pulling his hand away. I wanted to protest, but realized that it was for the best. His fingers were too distracting. "She signed the contract that Benjamin had drawn, and the only thing she said before she left the room is that her daddy wouldn't be happy."

"Oh, what did he say?" I asked, shifting a little so that I could see his expression.

"I thought I'd make her tell him, but then I saw that she wasn't going to be able to talk with him coherently for a while. So I called him myself."

"And?"

"He was pissed." It was funny to hear that word come out of Edward's mouth and couldn't stifle a giggle.

"He yelled a bit and told me that I had to bring her to him and that he'd find his own doctors to deal with her. He called me all kinds of horrible names but I just waited for him to finish so that I could tell him what I was willing to do. When he stopped his rant I told him that I wasn't bringing Heidi anywhere and that she signed her commitment papers herself. And that if he had a problem with her choices that he needed to come to her."

"Wow," I exclaimed.

"Yeah. But that's not all," he said with a mischievous look. "I told him that if he didn't want to lose his daughter forever that he needed to start making her a priority in his life. And that if he didn't come down to Santa Cruz to help in her rehabilitation that I would find a reporter to tell the story of how the great Aro Volturi tried to emotionally blackmail me into marrying his daughter."

"You wouldn't do that!" I cried, outraged at the thought. "It would only hurt Heidi more," I added as I scooted myself away from him.

"Of course I wouldn't. I would never do something like that," he said emphatically, pulling me back to his side. "I only told him that to get him to listen. I know it's horrible that I threatened him, but I had to get him to come to her, to show her that she means something to him."

"Did he come?"

"Right before I left Santa Cruz to come out here for the wedding, a friend of mine from the harbor told me that Aro and a small crew got his boat ready for a sail to Santa Cruz. He sublet his boat slip to someone else which means he plans to be away for some time." He smiled, his eyes crinkling happily.

"Well that's good," I stated, eager to hear the end of this story so that we could move on and not have to think about Heidi or Aro anymore.

"How long did you stay in Santa Cruz?" I asked, hoping to get Edward to wrap up his tale.

"Well, I actually stayed longer than I thought I would," he admitted with a sheepish look on his face.

"Why?" I blurted, again putting some space between us. I worried that maybe it was harder to say goodbye to Heidi than he'd thought. I was overcome with anguish as I braced myself for him to admit that he couldn't leave her, that she still factored into our future.

"I stayed at first because I wanted to make sure that Heidi was settling in okay. And I needed her to understand that I wasn't coming back for her. That she was starting a new chapter in her life and…so was I." Edward pulled my hand to his lips in a soft kiss.

"Was she okay?" I asked, only half interested in his answer as my heart soared in relief.

"She was distracted. She was sick at first…going through the whole detox process. I was planning on leaving, but I was unsettled…like I didn't have total closure with her. So I spent a few days in Santa Cruz, driving up to check on her progress. It was so beautiful and peaceful up in those mountains. I could easily see why the center is there…it's a great place for healing.

"You would think I'd be immune to the beauty of the forest after growing up in Forks, but it's less wet there…and warmer. I spent a bit of time hiking along the trails around the center and enjoying nature and thinking of…well, you mostly. Every moment I was away just made me want to run back here faster."

His words made me so happy. It gave me such a sense of relief to know that we we'd both struggled, that we both were anxious to begin our lives together.

I lifted my hand to his neck, my fingers searching for the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. "I was thinking of you too…all the time," I admitted. "So, how long did you stay…until Heidi was better?"

"Not exactly. At first, I wasn't sure what to do. Should I leave before she's done with detox, or stay so that I can talk with her when she's healthier? I thought about this a lot, especially when I was hiking around. It was so quiet; it was easy to get lost in your thoughts.

"I think it was Heidi's third day of detox and I was wandering around the forest by myself. I'd been hiking and thinking for about an hour when I finally decided that I'd done my best for Heidi and that I might have to wait for a very long time if I was going to get the kind of closure that I wanted. I made the decision to leave. I changed direction to head back to the trailhead when I heard a noise…like the shuffling of leaves…and turned to see a girl coming up from the path behind me.

"Who was she?" I asked, not expecting this turn of events.

"Her name is Tia. She had been at the center for almost two months and went out hiking at least once a day. When I came upon her she was just returning from her daily walk. I could tell that I made her uncomfortable, but since we were going the same direction it made sense to walk together."

I nodded in understanding, but was uneasy at the fondness clear in his tone. _Was I jealous?_

"We began to talk and though she was shy and uncertain, she seemed to warm up to me after a while. In that hour walk back I found out a bit about her life and why she found herself at the center. She's eighteen, but she seemed even younger…really naive. I won't go into the details of why she was there, but by the time we got back to the center, I felt sure that she would recover.

"When we got back, we got some bottles of water at the cafeteria and sat down at one of the sitting areas in the visitor's lounge and continued to talk. Tia was very rigid in her way of thinking. I asked her questions that would force her to examine her logic. I tried to help her to see that there are many different ways of looking at a situation, many different ways of understanding our lives.

"We talked in circles for a while until she seemed like she would accept that she might be wrong about some of her perceptions. I'll never forget the way she looked when she got up from the table and told me her head was going to explode. And then she laughed…and hugged me…and when she pulled back, she was crying."

The look on Edward's face as he recalled his conversation with Tia was incredulous, humble, as if he couldn't believe that he'd actually helped her. And yet I could tell that somehow this was a significant moment for him; his talk with Tia had miraculously reminded him of who he was and what he was capable of doing.

"You are so wonderful with people, Edward," I said. "I remember how much you helped me when I needed you. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't gone to our group sessions. I was so utterly lost and dejected, and you helped me – and everyone else - to see that all the horrible things we'd been through didn't define us."

"Thank you, Bella," Edward said before kissing me lightly on the lips.

"You have so much to offer," I asserted honestly. I could remember those days from the past so easily…all the pain, the loneliness, the fear. But Edward was a bright light, a beacon in all the darkness. He was my teacher, my doctor, my fantasy.

"I guess Benjamin thinks so too," Edward replied.

"Benjamin?"

"Apparently, he eavesdropped on a bit of my conversation with Tia and realized pretty quickly that I was giving her my own version of therapy. He was impressed with me…with the way I connected to her. I guess she hadn't spoken much since she'd been at the center and I was the first one to really get through to her." I smiled up at Edward, squeezing his hand to show him how proud I felt.

"Benjamin asked me to stay for dinner at the center as his guest so that we could talk. He was kind of mysterious about it and had me really anxious by the time the food came. We had some sort of vegan casserole - something Alice would love."

"Was Heidi there?"

"No, the patients in detox eat in their rooms."

"Oh."

"Anyway, as soon as the food came Benjamin asked me about my qualifications – what kind of degree I had, where I went to school, what kind of experience I had…and all that. He really is a great guy…so easy to talk to, but he gets right to the point."

"Which was?" I was getting eager to get to the kissing part of the night, but I was also still so curious to find out how Tia and Benjamin were tied to Edward's future.

"Well, he offered me a job," he said plainly.

"What? In Santa Cruz," I blurted, again shifting my body away to look Edward directly in the eye.

"No no!" he replied quickly. "I could never be that far away from you again," he promised, reaching out and almost roughly sliding me up onto his lap. Shocked by his abruptness, I wriggled against him. But when he desperately slammed his lips onto mine, I melted into his embrace.

We kissed for several minutes, getting lost in the intensity of our feelings. And yet I felt a tug at the back of my mind reminding me that I didn't hear the end of his story. I still didn't know what the future held.

"Edward," I murmured against his lips as I grasped onto his shoulders. His lips travelled down my neck toward my collarbone, his tongue tickling my tingling skin. "Please Edward…" He trailed soft, pillowy kisses along my shoulder. "Tell me…" His teeth nibbled my jaw. "Tell me what Benjamin said," I forced out with a breathy moan.

"Okay," he pouted, removing his lips, but tightening his arms around me so that I was pinned against his broad chest. "His center is doing so well that he's opening a second one on Bainbridge Island, just a short ferry ride away from Seattle. And he wants me to work for him. He thinks I'm overqualified, because I have more credentials than his other therapists, and evidently, there's a pretty high burn-out rate, but…it's a great opportunity for me. I mean, I can be helping people again. I can make a difference."

"I take it you said yes?" I asked with what I could only imagine was a huge, dopey smile on my face.

"I did," he whispered and then he kissed me. And again and again and again.

**This is not the end. There is still more. Please leave a review!**


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